What We Saw From the Outside
by Wavebreeze
Summary: After a horrible mistake, the once popular, talkative Link returns to school mute and with a heavy burden weighing him down. With his inability to communicate and consuming guilt, Link's life has taken a turn for the worse, so now would be a good time for a girl with a severe mental illness to help fix all that. FULL SUMMARY INSIDE. Zelink AU. Rated T for adult themes and language.
1. Chapter One

**Author's Note**

**Summary**:B_efore his senior year of high school, Link had everything he ever thought he needed, but after a terrible accident he returns to school completely changed. Not only has the accident left him forever mute, but his sister and half the town blames him for another student's demise. His difficulty in communicating makes keeping friends nearly impossible and for the first time Link is no longer on the inside of things, but on the outside. When it seems like his own silence will consume him, a clever, compassionate girl with a severe mental illness may be the only person who can save him from himself. As they struggle to live with their own unique problems, they'll learn that being on the outside can be better than on the inside. AU Zelink_

So what is this story about? It's about loss of innocence, about accepting your mistakes and flaws, and about learning to find something to smile about in the most abysmal places. It's about love, family, friendship, and growing up. In a nut shell, it's a dramatic Zelink story with plenty of psychologically disturbed people. What could be better?

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Chapter One – First Words

Posted on January 22nd, 2013

* * *

Sitting at a desk in the back corner, surrounded by nervous freshmen and the loud babble of a high school soccer team, all I can think is that this is a mistake. This is dumb and stupid and idiotic, and I know those all mean the same thing but I'm not very good with words.

I look across the room and watch my old friends laughing and yelling. They're probably sharing sexual innuendos or teasing Ralph for his obsession with the captain of the girls' volleyball team as they bask in their confidence, popularity, and freedom. The classroom is so packed with players that they are practically stacked on top of each other, but they don't care. As upperclassmen, this is their year. They'll be in the starting line up, they'll be recruited by colleges, they'll haze the JV players, they'll go to parties and meet the love of their lives for just one night, and they'll do all of this while their ignorance and recklessness is loudly announced to the world, but why would they care? They're invincible. Nothing bad can ever happen to them. Other kids get alcohol poisoning, other kids get in car accidents, and other kids get comatose. They're invincible.

Just last night I told myself that I could still do that, I could still be apart of that. I had ended the season last year with my position as a forward locked for me and I was respected by my teammates. How could this year be any different?

Talo, a junior with brutish features and a permanent mischievous glint in his eye, is laughing louder than any of his friends. It's a barking laughter that makes his head fall backwards and his eyes close tight with joy. He's still chuckling when he brings his head forward, and for a moment his gaze wanders out of the exclusive varsity group and scans the room, probably checking to make sure that the underclassmen notice him. He sees me, and his brown eyes have never looked so black.

I am the first to look away. Right, that's what's different.

Coach Simmons finally enters the classroom with Assistant Coach Ingo marching right behind him. Only the freshmen notice the two burly men while everybody else continues being loud. Coach Simmons opens his mouth but Ingo, being the obnoxious brute he is, beats him to it,

"Listen up, ladies!" He shouts in an unnecessarily snarling voice and everybody but Talo shuts up. He quickly finishes his conversation with Mido, a pimply red headed boy, and the fact that the coaches wait for him to finish disgusts me.

"Thank you," Coach Simmons grudgingly says to Ingo, who looks pretty proud of himself as usual. Clearing his throat, Coach claps his hands and the meeting officially begins. "So, how's school been going for my favorite boys?"

Everybody groans and Coach chuckles. "It's only the third day back!" He yells with a smile but the boys start booing. Ingo, of course, is glaring at the crowd. His eyes swivel back and forth in a futile effort to get everybody under his stare, but when his eyes land on me they don't move. Great.

"Okay, okay, so welcome back everybody and welcome freshmen!" Coach greets cheerfully, though his smile is not as big as I remember it. "I hope you've all been practicing over the summer because we got a tough year ahead of us, but I've got a good gut feeling that we'll make it to States this year!"

There are some cheers from the varsity group and a few brave freshmen, but then Coach's smile turns sad and he waves his hands to bring the excitement down. Once everybody is quiet again he takes a couple of seconds to compose himself. His smile fades as he says in a grave voice,

"On a sadder note, Colin will not be joining us this season."

My stomach drops. I had a feeling this would happen.

The room is silent for once and I can feel a few gazes burning into me. I just look straight at Coach as he explains, "He's still in a coma and the doctors don't know how much longer he'll be, but to show our support we are dedicating this season – every single game, every single win, and every single goal – to him. All the money we raise this year is going to go to his recovery, and if we make it to States we'll definitely have enough money to cover his medical bills. I want you all to pray for him and support him when he wakes up. I talked to his parents and they say that even though Colin can't hear or see you, he loves visitors."

Coach takes a breath and a determined twinkle sparks in his brown eyes, a sure sign that his next words will be inspirational.

"Most of all," he begins in a powerful, booming voice. "I want you to always remember him. For many of you this is your year to get recruited or make your way up to varsity level, but this season is dedicated to Colin, so when you're out there on the field, out of breath and keeling over with a cramp or something, I want you boys to think of him and remember what you're playing for. This isn't just your time to win, this is _our _time to win! If we play with all our hearts – play through pain and sprained ankles and biased refs – then I'm positive Colin will recover with everything he has and pull through! Remember, for Colin!"

That last part makes no sense but the whole room erupts with cheers of "For Colin!" and even though I really regret attending this meeting, I have to admit it's touching that the whole team is supporting Colin this way. Am I a horrible person, though, for wishing they had done the same for me?

Once the team calms down, Coach takes a deep breath and says, "Now, I'd like you boys to all take a moment of silence and pray for him, okay?"

So he bows his head and everybody follows his actions. I don't move. I've been praying for the past three months and it hasn't worked, what will one more time do?

Despite that, I like the one minute where we're all quiet and I don't feel out of place, but then Coach brings his head back up and a few people begin whispering to each other. Clearing his throat, Coach begins his yearly speech,

"Now tryouts start tomorrow and everybody…"

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I take it out and _New Text Message_ flashes across the screen. I don't recognize the number, which is never a good sign, but I open it.

_Murderer_.

Immediately the room feels ten degrees colder and my throat feels tight and constricted, like somebody is slowly pressing down on it. Without even touching it, I can feel the scar on my neck pulling at my skin as a cruel reminder of the accident, as if this text wasn't enough.

I know I'm not a murderer because Colin is still alive and it was an accident. Everybody knows it was an accident, the court even ruled it so; therefore, I am innocent. It was an accident. I'm not a murderer. I'm not…

I take a deep breath and run a clammy hand through my unmanageable blond hair. My face is hot and the classroom suddenly seems so much smaller. I just want to leave. Coming here was so stupid, just like every other decision I've ever made.

I glance around the room nervously. Do I want to know who sent it? I'm not sure, but nobody is looking at me.

_Murderer_.

My neck feels sore and twisted and my throat is raw. I want water but just thinking about digesting anything makes me nauseous. Without thinking my hand moves up and my fingers gently run down the long, thin scar that stretches from the front of my neck to my collarbone. The raised, rough texture makes me shiver, and when I swallow I can feel the skin pulling at the seam.

_Murderer_.

I know I'm not a murderer. I'm not. I'm not I'm not I'm not, but…but then why – dear Goddesses, why – do I feel like one?

_Murderer._

My eyes grow heavy with unshed tears as I feel my scar again, but it seems so pathetic now. I should've gotten more of a punishment. I don't deserve to be free. I should be in the coma –

My destructive thoughts are interrupted by an eruption of chatter and the sound of chairs screeching against the floor as they're pushed around. The boys around me stand up and everybody moves towards the door like it's taco day in the cafeteria. Talo laughs loudly.

_Murderer_.

I put my phone away and wait until everybody is gone before making my way towards the door, but Ingo steps in front of me. Shit, what now?

"Listen – "

"Hey, Link," Coach steps in before Ingo can release his years of pent up aggression on me. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Ingo glares at him but Coach just smiles. "I'll see you tomorrow!" He says cheerily to his assistant, but it's obviously forced. With a huff, Ingo leaves by slamming the door, and then the room is silent.

I look at Coach and I'm glad to see he hasn't changed since last year. His chin is covered with wispy gray hair and his thick brows hang low over his almond-colored eyes. As always he's wearing his red and yellow Kakariko High School sweats, which surprisingly works well for him.

He takes a deep breath and forces another smile, which makes me wonder when was the last time somebody genuinely smiled at me.

"It's good to see you, Link. How've you been?"

It's not one of those polite how've-you-been-I-know-the-answer-is-good-though, but more of a seriously-how-are-you-holding-up-with-all-that-happened? Knowing he actually cares lift some of the oppressing guilt I was feeling just a second ago.

Unfortunately, I can't give much of an answer. I shrug and bobble my head slightly. What else am I supposed to do?

His smile falls as my disability is displayed before him. I watch his dejected brown eyes stare at my scar for a moment before he looks back at me.

"I'm really glad you'll be joining us again this season," he says with forced pep. "Soccer will be good for you, and of course the team would be really hurting if you weren't there."

He pauses and I don't know if he wants me to do something, so I just blink a couple times and stare.

Scratching his gray moustache, he sighs, "As you know communication is key on the field, but we're not going to let that hold you back, understand. We'll figure something out, I promise, but…. I don't suppose you have any ideas?"

I shake my head.

"Yeah, well, ain't nothing to worry about. You're gonna play again and everything's going to be fine."

I've never heard a bigger lie in my life, and the worst part is that he actually believes it.

He smiles again and leans closer to me. "And don't worry about tomorrow," he whispers. "You've already got a spot on the team."

He looks at me expectantly again and I remember that such information is to make me excited. I try my best to force a grin but judging by his fallen expression I can tell I failed.

"W-well," he coughs. "I'll see you tomorrow then. Get plenty of rest and eat well!"

I nod and wave goodbye. If all my conversations at school are like this then I'd rather be invisible.

He awkwardly waves back and I rush out the door, glad to be away from the cramped, oppressive room where the word _Murderer _will hang in the air forever. Walking down the empty hallway, I force myself to dispel any thoughts of that text. Everybody knows it was an accident, nobody thinks I actually tried to kill him. It was just some ignorant kid. Nobody agrees –

"Well, look who's showing his face again," a malicious voice calls from behind me and my body freezes.

"What, not gonna say hi?" Somebody else asks. "What happened to polite, teacher's pet Link?"

I start walking again but my attackers jump in front of me. Even though he's four inches shorter than me, Talo stands proudly in front of his crew. Mido is next to him, his pimpled, pale face pulled into a deep scowl, and Grog is seething behind both of them. Grog is dimwitted and lazy, but he's barrel-chested, got the biggest thighs I've ever seen, and he's twice my weight. Even Talo and Mido, who are lean guys, are threatening with Grog standing behind them. Judging by the deadly gleam in Talo's dark eyes, I think if it was just him attacking me I'd still be scared.

"You've got a lot of nerve coming here again!" Talo snaps as he takes a step closer to me. "You think you can try to kill Colin and then we'll all welcome you back onto the team? We don't play with murderers!"

His words sting and I just want him to listen to me, to let me explain that it was all an accident, that I spend every night lying awake and thinking about what I could've done differently, but how can I explain? Will he let me go grab a piece of paper and write what's been happening to me the past two months?  
All I'm capable of doing is shaking my head, but that doesn't stop him. With an enraged grunt, Talo shoves me and I stumble backwards, barely staying on my feet.

"What? No excuse?" Talo growls and the other two come closer.

I want to ask him why he would suddenly care so much about Colin, the shy boy who he bullied throughout his entire life, but I just raise my hands in a placating manner. It goes unnoticed.

"Answer me!" Talo demands as he shoves me again.

Before I can even think of a clever retort, Grog finally loses it and he punches me in the stomach.

I'm immediately breathless and my urge to puke increases tenfold as I lean forward, clutching my bruised torso. A scream is lodged in my throat and it pulls at my scar. Still hunched over, I start backing up but not before Mido punches me in the face. I fall heavily on my shoulder as my vision swarms and my head throbs. My eyes are prickling while a pent-up scream stretches my scar even more. Oh, Goddesses, I have so much regret for attending that stupid meeting.

"Why don't you call for help, Link?" Mido sneers. "Come on, give us a scream."

That makes my instincts kick in and I scramble to my feet, ready to slam his head against the locker until he's as silent as myself, but Grog easily kicks me back down and I crumble to the floor like a rag doll.

Through the ringing in my ears and my throbbing headache, I hear the sound of a door opening, and then they all scatter just as fast as they came.

"Link?" Coach Simmons yells from down the hall. I hear him running towards me as I struggle to stand up even though all my muscles feel like abused rubber bands.

He reaches me in no time and tries to help me up, but I slap his hand away. Screw people, I just want to be alone.

"Link," He says again but I shake my head. "Let me – "

I weakly shove him away, but it's enough for him to get my message. Without even a glance back I stumble onto my feet and limp down the hall alone. Blood trickles from my nose and I can feel my eye swelling shut.

It's good to be back.

* * *

"Link, we can either sit here for an hour or we can make your life better, which do you want?" Doctor Gaebora asks yet again in his calm yet obviously exhausted and frustrated voice.

I stare at him. He stares at me. This is nothing new, and after many sessions of just staring I've memorized his face, so if I close my eyes I can perfectly explain everything about him. His cheeks are round and plump like the rest of his body, and a cluster of freckles that look like the Big Dipper decorate the left side of his face. Today his thick beard is trimmed close to his jaw, but usually it protrudes at least an inch, and his wavy brown hair reaches his shoulders. At first his keen amber eyes unnerved me because they're abnormally round and large like an Owl's, but now I can stare at them for a full hour without ever looking away in fear, except for when his massive eyebrows cast dark shadows. Then his eyes are just black sockets and that's creepy.

He shifts in his plump orange chair and rubs his temple without ever breaking eye contact. In the same tired voice, he asks, "Do you want to talk about how you got a black eye?"

I turn my head to the left, effectively hiding my beaten face, and I gaze at the wall. My eye constantly aches and touching it just makes it hurt more, which makes me want to go back and beat Talo, Mido and Grog up until they can't breathe. Then again, that wouldn't help my whole I-am-not-a-murderer campaign.

Sighing, I observe the wall rather than stare at Doctor Gaebora and let him see my black eye. The afternoon sun makes his moss green walls glow and illuminates his hoard of owl trinkets. Owl clock, owl photograph, owl action figures (he calls them statues), owl paperweight…he's the one who needs therapy, not me.

"We can discuss whatever you want, Link," he tries again but he and I both know that it's futile. My lack of participation has nothing to do with him (he's actually quite nice, a little boring, but overall he's a stand up guy), I just don't want to talk about it, and by it I mean anything that has to do with myself. I don't even need therapy, especially three days a week. Really, it's just a waste of money.

I glance at the owl clock. Five more minutes.

"Have you been practicing your sign language?"

My eyes narrow at the question and I adamantly stare at the clock. Why does he have to remind me of my disability? Why do we need to discuss it?

"Do you want to play a game?" He asks but, judging by his defeated tone, he already knows the answer.

Four more minutes.

He releases a heavy sigh, and finally ends the misery, "Very well. You may leave early today."

Fuck yes.

As I make my way towards the door I glance at his weary face, and I feel a pang of guilt. He's only doing his job and I'm so difficult, but maybe if he'd stop telling Grandma I need help then I would respect him more.

Aside from the actual therapy, I enjoy walking through the psychiatric hospital. It's quiet and I don't mind when I see people here. Half of them are quite friendly while the other half is crazy, so I don't feel bad when they tell me to go fuck myself.

Outside the weather is warm but with a cool breeze, a sure sign autumn is coming. The psychiatric hospital has a nice location on the outskirts of Kakariko, so there is nobody on the street to judge me, no cars to try to kill me, and no other threats. The small, crowded houses along the road are silent and even the auto body shop is closed. Just by the stillness of this street I can tell that my walk home will be a nice as long as my eye stops hurting so –

Something hard collides into my back and I stumble onto the street. I hear a gasp and a scuffle of feet as somebody leans against me.

"Oh my goddesses, I-I'm so sorry," a woman stammers as she jumps away. "Are you okay? I'm _so _sorry!"

I turn around with the intent to just brush it off and run, but I freeze when I see her. She's such a mess that my brain can only register a limited amount of information: sapphire eyes are red and puffy from the tears streaming down her rosy cheeks, trembling pink lips, long wavy blonde hair that falls across her perfectly round face, and an expensive looking camera hangs around her neck. Somehow in complete hysteria and just jean shorts and a ratty t-shirt, she looks better than most of the girls in my school on a good day.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbles again, sniffles, and then bends down to collect what she had been carrying. I follow her movements to help her pick up a stack of papers and a worn notebook, but when I reach for it she snatches it away from me.

Our eyes lock for a second and though her tears continue to fall in torrents, she doesn't look away.

"You look familiar…" she whispers as her eyebrows scrunch together with thought. "Do you go here?"

I definitely hadn't seen her before because I would have remembered that face, so where could she have seen me? The only places I ever go to these days are my house, school, and the psychiatric hospital.

I just nod, however, because there's not much else I can do.

Immediately she seems much more comfortable. Her tense shoulders fall as she releases a deep sigh, as if knowing she's talking to somebody who needs therapy is a good thing (except I don't need therapy, Grandma just thinks I do). A few strands of wavy blonde hair fall in front of her face and I have to resist the weird urge to brush them away for her.

She stands up and holds her notebook and papers close to her chest while staring at me with calculating, stunning blue eyes. A tear leaks out as her gaze travels to my throat and my skin immediately feels hotter.

Before she can ask me anything, I point to the pen in her hand. It takes her a moment to realize that I want to borrow it, and with caution she gives it to me. Immediately I write on my hand _Are you okay?_

Her eyes widen with surprise for a second as if she forgot about her sobbing, but then she just smiles sadly, wipes away the tear, and answers, "Yeah, just a regular day of therapy, you know?"

I just realized that was the first time I communicated with somebody other than Grandma or a doctor, but I push those pathetically lonely thoughts away. Shaking my head, I write, _Is therapy always this bad?_

She sniffles once before replying with her forced smile and shaky voice, "My doctor says that if you're not crying then the therapy isn't working."

Raising my eyebrows with astonishment, I write, _That's messed up._

She releases a small laugh, and just the sound of her chuckle makes me feel so much better. I hadn't made anybody laugh in a long time, but what does that matter? I like being alone. It's quiet and peaceful, just me an my thoughts…

Okay, I'll admit I like "talking" with her…just a little bit.

"It is, isn't it?" she grins while wiping away a few remaining tears. "I'm guessing your therapy sessions aren't quite so dramatic."

My palm is now covered with my awful handwriting, so I write on the back, _They aren't because I don't participate much_.

She shifts her weight and purses her lips, which makes her nose scrunch up in an oddly cute way.

"You're new, aren't you?" she states with an intelligent gleam in her still puffy eyes. "The new kids rarely open up to their therapists. I get it, you know, it's hard opening up, but you'll never get better if you don't work with your doctor."

I like that she doesn't say this in a reprimanding way but with the kindness of a friend. Even though, I reply, _I don't need to get better_. _I'm fine_.

This time her smile is sad and full of pity, and I feel like I said the wrong answer.

"Well, what are you here for?" she asks with a sniffle, and then hastily adds, "I-I mean, if you don't mind me asking…. S-sorry that was rude of me to ask, because you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Sorry that was…why are you smiling?"

Despite her scolding tone, she's grinning as I write, _You're rambling_.

Placing her hands on her hips, she retorts playfully, "So you like watching people fumble with their words. Ironic, huh?"

I shrug and a slightly awkward silence comes between us. I don't want this conversation to end but talking about my problems is not my forte. My therapist has been trying for three months and I still haven't said anything substantial, but I suppose this couldn't hurt. She won't think I'm evil, right? I'll be vague to be safe.

_I'm in therapy for "stress and depression" and possible PTSD_. I show it to her, but before she can respond I add, _I had a bad accident_.

Emphasis on the accident.

She nods and looks at me with an understanding that I haven't seen from anybody else. It makes me shudder.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with this, would it?" She asks while touching her throat.

_Yes. _I write on my arm, and even though I'm sure it's obvious, I add, _I'm mute._

She nods again and looks down the deserted street. The breeze plays with her flaxen hair as she says wistfully, "Sometimes…I wish I were mute."

_Why?_ I write almost angrily. _It's awful._

She looks back at me with a hard yet regretful expression in her eye, one that I can't quite define, and she says slowly, "I have a disease that…well…that makes me say things I wish I could take back."

I want to ask her what disease she's talking about, but even I, a person whose social skills have decreased tremendously in a span of three months, can tell she is guarded about the issue. After all, she's a lot more vague than I was.

We reach another lull in conversation, but without even thinking I keep it going by asking, _What's your name?_

The corners of her lips twitch upwards, clearly relieved that I changed the subject, and the fact I did something socially pleasing makes me smile, too. Human interaction is still possible!

"I'm Zelda," she states cheerfully while stretching her hand towards me.

_Link_ I write in the center of my palm.

"Link" she reads as I shake her hand, the way it sounds rolling off her tongue making my skin tingle. "I like that."

I just smile and stare at our clasped hands. Her skin is soft and warm…the last person I touched was when I hugged Grandma.

Dear Goddesses, I'm actually the most pathetic person in the world.

"Hold on," she says eagerly. Her grip tightens to prevent me from leaving while her other hand awkwardly grabs for the camera around her neck. Smiling, she takes a picture of our hands. The fact that she wants to remember this moment makes me nervous for reasons I can't determine, but it feels like a good kind of nervous.

She releases my hand and I instantly long for human contact again, which just sounds incredibly desperate, but then she's next to me and holds her camera in front of my face to show me her photo.

In the picture her arm is smooth and clean while mine is tanned and covered in sloppy handwriting, and though I wish I didn't write as if I were having a seizure I can see why she finds it interesting…maybe? I don't understand art.

I find some free space on the underside of my forearm and write _Are you a photographer?_

She blushes and smiles, and if her cheeks weren't stained with her previous tears I would have never guessed she'd been crying. I hope I had something to do with her improvement.

"Kinda…" she mumbles with an adorably shy smile. "I'm trying to be at least."

I hear the sound of a car rolling behind me and I follow Zelda's gaze to look at a sleek black vehicle. I can't see the driver but she recognizes it.

"Oh, that's my ride," she states and I hope that's reluctance I hear in her voice. "I have to go now, Link, but it was great talking to you and sorry again for bumping into you. I'll see you later?"

I nod, slightly breathless and slightly hating myself for being so easily affected by human interaction, and I watch her briskly walk past me to a shiny black car.

She's about to open the door when she spins back around and adds in a rush, "Hey, you should come to group therapy on Saturday! It's just for people under eighteen, I'll be running it, no therapists, and it'd be great if you'd come! I mean…only if you want to. You can do whatever you want! I just think it'd be a good experience because you get a chance to listen to other kids your age, you know? And…oh Nayru, I'm rambling, aren't I?"

I smile and nod while she blushes.

"Okay, well…Saturday at ten. I'll see you there?"

It doesn't sound like my kind of thing – I don't even talk to my therapist, how will I talk to strangers? – but I find myself nodding and her smile makes it worth it.

"Great!" she chirps and opens the car door. "I'll see you then, and I hope your eye gets better!"

And with that she jumps into the car and immediately drives away. There's an odd empty feeling in me, which is either because she left so abruptly or because I'm hungry. Both are plausible explanations.

I gingerly touch my cheek to see if the bruising is still there, and of course it is. It's weird how the entire time we were talking I didn't even notice it, but now that she's gone today's events resurface and I sigh, already dreading tomorrow.

I watch the black car turn the corner and listen to the sound of its motor fading into the distance. If I can communicate fairly well with a total stranger then maybe I _can_ talk to people….

Looking at my arm, I realize that I forgot to return her pen, but that makes me smile. Well, looks like I'll have to go to group therapy on Saturday to return it, huh?

Breathing in deeply, I begin my walk home, glad that I at least have one thing to love forward to.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Oh shit, I'm scared and excited about this new story, kind of like the first day of school. And I suck at first chapters. I wrote it four times before finally deciding on something that was passable, and I could work on this forever and it'd never be acceptable, but I just wanted to get this story going so here's my eh-ish chapter one. Hopefully the rest will be better.

If any of you read my other story An Old Blue Fish, this story will be similar to that in that there's a lot more emotional and character development than action like in my other stories. And Zelink. There always has to be Zelink ;)

I'm trying to keep my AUs short, so I'll leave it at that. But before I go, I'd really love if you left me a review and told me everything that went wrong with this chapter so that the next one will be better (I'm a bit rusty with writing), and thank you for reading!

I hope to hear from you,

~~Wave~~


	2. Chapter Two

_A Quick Note: _Link (and others) will use sign language throughout this story, and when he does his message will be written "_Like this_" (in quotations and italicized). When he communicates through writing on his hand, notepad, etc. it will be written, _Like this_. Hopefully the distinction will be clear in the context of the story.

Additionally, I don't know sign language, but I've done some research and I know that sign language does not translate exactly to English, but because I will not take the time to become fluent for fanfiction there will be some inaccuracies. If somebody happens to be fluent in sign language though and wants to be super nice, I'd love help!

Now, enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Two – Selective Mute

February 2nd, 2013

* * *

My house is nearly a hundred years old and it definitely looks it. The white paint is chipped and fading, weeds poke through the stone steps in front of our wooden door, the windows are smeared and cracked in a few places, and a rustic chimney protrudes proudly from the top of our steep, black-shingled roof. Our neighbors, whose houses are brand new, mold-free brick buildings with working porch lights, really make our decaying style of architecture stand out.

Despite the abysmal exterior, inside I have always felt at home. Even when the draft makes every room feel like an igloo or when the ants annually seep through our many cracks and eat all the bread, I have always loved this decomposing building. It's been in my family for generations. My great grandfather built it just after he and my great grandmother eloped when Kakariko got its first population boom, and with both my parents dead I like to think of the house as a reminder of their existence. I can't say I miss them much because I can't even remember their faces without the aid of a photograph, but when I was little I liked to imagine them lounging on the floral couch, or lazily cooking in our tiny kitchen. Even as I grew older and thought about them less, I occasionally imagined the creak of the floorboards to be one of them walking through the house. Recently, however, the house lacks the welcoming atmosphere it used to have and I've stopped imagining my parents all together. As I walk up the front steps, the weeds seem thicker, the white paint grayer, and the lights dimmer.

I manage to soundlessly open the front door and quietly walk across the stained carpet to the base of the stairs. I can hear Grandma in the kitchen humming to dancing tunes of her past and, by the sound of the dull _thuds_, beating some dough yet again. After the accident all she does is cook. Granted, she does work at a local bakery, but at home she's always in the kitchen playing the same songs over and over again and making way too much food for three people. Despite the cheerful rhythms and happy chords, her music sound like dirges late at night.

I slip my shoes off and begin my careful trek up the stairs, staying light on my feet in order to avoid Grandma and hide in my room like I do every day. The first few steps are consistently squeaky, but I stealthily slip past them. I skip the next step and I'm in the clear. Pleased, I begin to walk normally again but, as luck would have it, the step squeaks.

Of course, the one time I want to be silent…

"Link?" Grandma calls from the kitchen and she instantly starts hobbling towards me. Damn it, aren't old people supposed to be deaf?

I sigh and try to casually go up the stairs like I hadn't heard her, but she's already at the bottom of the stairs and calling to me again.

"Link, I didn't hear you come in," Grandma says eagerly in her gentle old person voice. "How are you doing, dear? Do you want a cookie? I just made a fresh batch."

I smile politely and shake my head without looking at her. If she sees my black eye sweet Grandma will become much less cheery.

"Look at you!" she exclaims while taking a few steps up the stairs. "You're so thin! Maybe you'd like some roast beef instead."

I strategically show her the right side of my face so she can see my apologetic smile but can't see my bruised eye, but that doesn't stop her. She's still coming up the stairs even though her legs are shaking and her movements are painfully slow. Every day she makes it her mission to give me a hug when I get home, and watching her struggle to race after me makes me feel guilty for trying to hide from her.

Sighing, I turn and walk down the stairs. Before she can look up I bend down to her short height and gently hug her. Her bony fingers weakly grab onto me while she whispers, "love you" into my ear. I just hold her tighter.

We pull apart and I try to hide my face but of course she sees it. Immediately her smile falls and her beady eyes grow wide, making all of her wrinkles much more prominent. I turn to go back up but her hand latches onto my wrist.

"Link…" she whispers. "What happened?"

I shake my head, but she tugs on my arm.

"Look at me," she demands in a breathless voice.

I try to pry her bony fingers off of me without looking, and I find her grip surprisingly strong for such an old lady.

"Look at me," she orders again but in a stronger tone.

With a sigh, I turn back around and look everywhere but her eyes. Flour is smeared across her pale, wrinkled face and maroon dress, and her gray hair is in its usual bun. For some reason, she looks particularly frail today.

She reaches her hand up to my face and gingerly touches my bruise with a mix of awe, horror, and despair in her dark brown eyes.

"Who did this to you?" she demands in a shaking voice.

My sign language is weak at best, and I'll admit I haven't been practicing as much as I should, so the best I can do is say "_Do not be sad"_ when I really want to tell her to not worry. My hands and fingers fumble as I try to remember the movements and I think I use the wrong fingers for sad, but she gets the point.

"How can I not be sad when my little goose is in pain?" She asks and her eyes begin to water. "Who did this?"

My hands slowly move with each other and I say, "_You forget, please_."

"Link, if somebody is hurting you then we need to tell somebody…"

I shake my head furiously and repeat, "_You forget, please_."

"Link…"

"_Please_."

She gives me a pleading look, but when I don't succumb her shoulders droop in defeat. Sighing, she gently tugs on my hand and leads me away from the stairs as she says, "Come on, let's get you fed and healed."

I follow her to the living room and she orders me to lie back on the couch while she fetches some supplies from the kitchen. Reluctantly, I comply and fall back on the floral couch that is stained from years of use, and the cushions sink dramatically under my weight. I listen to Grandma rummaging around in the kitchen while I just stare at the blank T.V. and our huge collection of random trinkets. Much like the rest of the house, the living room is over crowded with items from a long history of snooping around in garage sales and antique stores. The cream colored walls are covered with photos of my sister and I, my parents, Grandma and Grandpa, and other ancient relatives I have no recollection of. Every wooden table is pilled with antique clocks, more pictures, clay pots from Aryll's art class when she was five, and books. So. Many. Books. Grandma has a habit of starting a book and not realizing she's already read until halfway through, so she places it down on a random spot, promising to put it away later or give it to charity, but the book rarely leaves that spot. _The Various Haunts of Men _and _The Horse Whisperer _have been on the coffee table for at least three years.

Grandma wobbles in from the kitchen clutching onto a plate of cookies, milk, and a pack of frozen vegetables. With a sad smile, she places it on the coffee table and gently presses the frozen veggies to my face. I flinch under the initial shock of cold but I hold it against my bruised cheek.

Sitting beside me, Grandma peers at my right arm, which is still covered in ink from my conversation with Zelda, and asks hopefully, "Did you talk with Doctor Gaebora?"

I shake my head, but the reminder of Zelda makes the pain lessen just a bit.

Her smile falters, obviously frustrated that I haven't been more open with my therapist, and she inquires, "So…who were you talking to?"

I hesitate, fully aware of what she'll do if I tell the truth, but I curl my hand into a fist and rotate it in a tight circle to say, "_Girl."_

"A girl?" Grandma repeats, sitting up straighter and shamelessly grinning with that excited gleam in her light blue eyes. "Who?"

I shrug and without much knowledge on sign language the best I can do is, "_She goes to head school with me_."

Grandma squints and mouths the words "head school" before realizing what I meant.

"Oh, you mean therapy. You do that like this," she explains while showing me the correct gestures for the word. Unlike me, Grandma wasn't terrified by my muteness and she instantly began learning sign language. Even though a person her age shouldn't be able to learn new languages well, she's much better than me.

"Was she nice?" Grandma asks eagerly.

I shrug and stare off into the distance. Thankfully, Grandma gets that I don't want to talk about it and we fall into silence as my wounded eye slowly becomes numb. Grandma fidgets beside me, and she's about to stand up when the front door slowly swings open. Aryll enters quietly, obviously trying to come in unnoticed, and as soon as she sees us watching her "stealthy" entrance she lets out a gasp of surprise.

"What is it with you two sneaking in?" Grandma snaps. "Is hugging me so bad?"

Aryll takes in a deep, shaky breath. Her large cobalt eyes are droopy and surrounded by bags from restless nights, and her golden hair, which is usually pulled back into neat pigtails, is sloppily held together in a ponytail. Smoothing out her wrinkled blue dress, she mumbles, "Sorry, Grandma…I'm just tired."

She drops her bag beside the door and Grandma and her stare at each other for a moment, a silent understanding passing between them. Aryll glances at me for a second right before she turns and rushes up the stairs.

I sigh. I've seen this scene before. Her exhausted, melancholy expression, her neglected hair, and her inability to look me in the eyes are all clear indications that she has been visiting her boyfriend, Colin.

Grandma and I stare up at the ceiling as if we can see through the wood and watch Aryll trudge into her room. We listen to the floorboards creek under Aryll's feet and the quiet closing of her door, and then we just sit there in silence, both wrapped up in our troubled thoughts.

I know why Aryll is acting so weird, but Grandma always scolds me for thinking this way. She can't believe that Aryll hates me and that she blames me for her boyfriend's condition, and sometimes I think Grandma might be right. Aryll's a smart, strong girl after all, and surely she understands it was an accident, yet she never looks me in the eye. She never asks me stupid questions just for the sake of annoying me, nor does she sing to the radio whenever we drive together. She never steals my food or makes me watch dumb T.V. shows with her. She never calls me Big Brother anymore.

"She loves you, Link," Grandma whispers as her bony fingers slowly clasp my wrist. "Never forget that."

I like how she knows what I'm thinking, and I like to think that she's right, but even if Aryll does still love me it's not as much as she used to. After years of me telling her to leave me alone, to stop bothering my friends, to stay inside, it's weird that I miss her now.

I kiss Grandma's forehead, silently telling her I love her and thanking her, before slowly trudging up the creaking stairs. On the way to my room I pause outside Aryll's closed door. Maybe I should try to comfort her…but what would I do? Even if I could speak I would not have the words to heal her.

* * *

The past three days I skipped lunch to sleep in one of the plush chairs in the school library, but today a freshman stole my usual seat and my stomach demands to be fed. And that brings me here in the dreaded cafeteria I've been avoiding.

The main reason I hate it is because it's loud. People are talking, yelling, complaining, giggling, teasing, taunting, whistling, singing, crying, groaning, fighting, shouting, and laughing at unnecessarily high volumes. They scream over each other, and sometimes a whole table will collectively yell to make a wall of sound for reasons unknown. Occasionally a table will sing "Happy Birthday," which is drowned out by a charming song called "Suck, Suck, Suck a Dick." The cacophony of noise never bothered me until I couldn't add to it myself. Unable to participate in any of this ruckus, I have to listen to every cheer, every swear, and every word of gossip. As I stand in a squished line to order a sandwich, I can hear two girls talking in the pasta line behind me.

"…Colin was dating his sister, and everybody knows how over protective he is."

I don't want to look behind me, because what if I know them? What if I liked them? I don't want to see their shame and distrust.

"But that's ridiculous," the other girl scoffs. "If Link had tried to kill him the police would've figured it out."

Well, at least somebody's on my side.

"Then why doesn't anybody know _exactly _whathappened?" Girl number one asks without even trying to lower her voice or her excitement. "Some people say Colin cut his throat and then Link tried to kill him – "

"Okay, that's just dumb. Colin could never – "

" – Or that Link planned the whole thing! I mean, how _convenient_ that it was wet that night!"

"Well why don't you just ask him?" Girl Two snaps. "He's right there."

"Oh," she says simply. There's a long pause before she asks, "Do you think he can hear us?"

Yes I can, bitch. I'm mute, not deaf.

I'm tempted to turn around and yell…well, glare, I guess, but it's my turn to order and currently my stomach over rules my irritation.  
"What can I get you, sweetie?" a raspy voice asks from across the counter and I grab my pen only to find that it's not there. I pat my pockets for it while regretting my decision to reject the school's offer to give me a mini whiteboard. Stupid pride.

With a sigh, I realize I'll have to resort to sign language, but will she know it? Probably not, but it's worth a shot.

I make my hands into claw-like shapes and then tap them together twice to say "_Sandwich,"_ but judging by her confused expression she has no idea what I'm doing.

"Look," she snaps while crossing her arms. "I don't need lewd hand gestures from horny teenagers, so either order or leave."

I shake my head and point to the bread, but before we can try my biggest failure of communication yet a strong hand lands on my shoulder and somebody pushes through the crowd to stand beside me. I look up to see my old friend Mikau smiling at the lunch lady. He's a Zora, so he's naturally tall and incredibly skinny with broad shoulders and a bald scalp. His ears and nose are flat while his sea green eyes are bright with intelligence. His entire left arm, which is so pale it's almost blue, is covered by his tribal tattoo that consists of overlapping circles, swirls, and ancient writing.

"You want your usual?" He asks me in a friendly tone.

Being the social butterfly I am, I just stare at him with confusion. He takes that as a yes and tells the lunch lady I want cuckoo with cheese and buffalo sauce.

"So…" Mikau drawls while the lunch lady prepares it after a pointed glare towards me. "How you doing?"

I shrug and bobble my head. Not much else I can do.

"Nice black eye you got there," he mentions cheekily, probably unaware of who gave it tome. "Do I want to see the other guy?"

I don't respond at all this time and just watch the lunch lady lazily create my sandwich.

There's an awkward silence between us, as I expected, but he hasn't left yet. Putting his hands in his pocket, he leans back on his heels and says casually, "I didn't know you were in this lunch period. Why aren't you sitting with us?"

I shrug again. Why doesn't he understand that I cannot respond? Or better yet, that I don't want to.

The lunch lady hands me my lunch and Mikau playfully slaps my shoulder.

"Come on, I saved you a spot," he urges with a friendly grin, but I just smile apologetically and shake my head while slowly backing up.

"Is it Talo?" Mikau guesses as his smile drops to a frown. "That's fine, the guy can be an annoying dick sometimes. We don't have to sit with them."

Damn it, stop being nice to me! All I can do is smile again and shake my head, and then rush away before he can rope me in.

Thankfully he gets the hint and doesn't chase after me. I feel a pang of guilt for turning him down, and I hope he understands that it has nothing to do with him – because he's really a nice guy – but sitting with him means sitting with Talo, Mido, Grog, and all our other old friends who probably hate me by now. And even if they didn't hate me, what would I do? I'd either just stare at them or I'd try to join the conversation by writing on my arm, but by the time I'd finish my sentence they'd be on the next topic, and then they'd find me a boring, annoying downer. Their positive view of me would deteriorate until they developed the he-tried-to-kill-Colin-let's-hate-him view or simply not want to hang out with me, but they'd feel obligated to hang out with me because they'd feel bad for me, and then I'd be a burden. Even if it were just Mikau and I he'd probably find me boring and annoying too, thus following the same path everybody else will no don't go on.

Clearly I've thought about this before, and clearly there is no good output. Isolation is key for social survival right now.

Unfortunately, my school has a dumb rule that prevents students from leaving the cafeteria if they have food, so eating in a secluded hallway isn't an option. To make matters worse, every table is full, which means I have to sit with people. Damn it.

With a sigh I begin to walk confidently between rows of tables filled with babbling students, trying to look like I have a place to go while being sure to avoid Talo and his table. When I reach the other side of the cafeteria the only empty-ish table is a circular one in the corner, but Fledge is sitting there.

Nobody really likes Fledge all that much. His voice is high pitch and he keeps mumbling like he's always scared, but he has good reason to be. He's the wimpiest kid in the school, his green hair is combed over like he was born in the wrong decade, his clothes are always way too big for him, and he's the only openly gay kid in the school. Most people, including myself, don't mind his sexuality, but if I learned anything from T.V. it's that being gay in high school sucks.

Sadly, I don't have any better options, so I sit down across from without checking to make sure the seats aren't taken, because they never are.

His head snaps up from being buried in his biology textbook and he looks at me with curious, bird-like eyes that are as gray as storm clouds. I ignore him and try to force down some of my sandwich despite my sore throat. Part of the reason I lost so much weight was that I had to be fed through a tube for a couple of weeks after the accident, and swallowing still hurt my throat a month later. Though I can eat fine now, my appetite has depleted and my throat hurts occasionally. Doctor Gaebora thinks my dramatic weight loss might be associated with depression, but since when is being sad a medical illness? I'll get over it…hopefully.

I use my body language to tell Fledge that I have no intention of communicating with him; I'm hunched over my food and I stare straight down at the table like he's not even there. Thankfully, Fledge gets the hint. He looks back to his book and remains quiet, leaving me to my thoughts.

After some time when I know Fledge won't try instigating conversation, I allow my eyes to wander across the room and stare at my old friends chatting at their lunch table. Just by looking and using my experience I can tell what they're all doing. Talo is flirting with Beth, as usual, but she is playing hard-to-get, as usual. Mikau's fingers are rolling across the table as he goes over guitar chords in his head, and his girlfriend, Lulu, is discussing her latest musical achievement. Mido is complaining to Ralph, probably about how Saria won't ever look at him with a smile, and Ralph is arguing with Groose, captain of the football team, whose hair is better. Malo, Talo's brother, sits quietly beside Groose with a glum look on his chubby face.

I can't help but imagine what it was like last year. I would be beside Mikau and Beth would be flirting with me while Talo pestered me with dumb questions about all the cool stuff we would do the upcoming weekend. Then Talo would tease Colin for not coming because he had to help his mom with chores, and the latter boy would just look at his lap and shrug. Colin never did feel comfortable in our group of friends.

My eyes wander again and I notice a nearby group of underclassmen girls looking at me and talking in rapid whispers. They're making up stories about the accident. I can tell by the hasty movement of their lips and their astonished yet excited expressions. I was hoping the talk about me would decrease by now, but I suppose my black eye just added to my new violent reputation. Even though I glare at them, they don't stop. Their mouths keep opening and closing, words spilling out at a rate of a hundred per minute. I wish I could shut them up and tell them I'm mute, not deaf or blind or an idiot, and I can fucking tell that their talking about me. They keep glancing over at me and giggling. What's so fucking funny?

"Ignore them," Fledge mumbles with surprising certainty for such a whiny voice.

My eyes immediately snap to him but he hasn't even looked up from his book. Fledge spoke when he wasn't asked to? Wow.

It takes him a second to realize I'm staring at him, and, judging by his wide grey eyes and red face, I don't think he meant to speak.

Clearing his throat, he adds with an awkward stutter, "I-I just mean…people like to spread rumors but most d-don't actually believe them…. It's only a matter of time before they get bored, and everybody knows it was an accident. Just…just ignore them."

He nods like he's agreeing with himself, and then hides his red face behind his book again.

I keep staring at him though, stunned that Fledge spoke to me. Fledge never spoke unless it was to a teacher or a person of equally low social status. I remember somebody called him mute once as a joke. Odd how I'm with him now…

He doesn't say anything for the rest of the lunch period and continues to hide behind his book, leaving me to mull over what he said. His confidence (which was hard to detect underneath his stutter) is convincing for a moment, but the aching on the left side of my face says differently. I try to ignore the girls but just knowing that they're talking about me makes everything much more painful, and even though I'm only half way through my sandwich, I can't eat it because my throat hurts too much.

With a sigh, I realize I'm probably the only person in the whole world who has ever wished he was wimpy, cowardly Fledge, but at least he doesn't have the title of murderer constantly hanging over his head. Even if time could stop the rumors, could it stop this guilt?

I glance down at my right arm, and some of the ink from yesterday is barely visible. Looks like I'll have something to discuss at group therapy after all.

* * *

_Author's Note_

I'm sorry this chapter isn't all that exciting, but I really felt that I needed another chapter to establish more of a background, specifically Aryll, Grandma, and Link's discomfort at school. Starting next chapter things will pick up much more and Zelda will return! Because next chapter is group therapy! Wooo!

I'm trying really hard to update every two weeks because I'd like to have this done before I go to college (August), and if I spent a month like I usually do on each chapter I'll never get to where I want to be. Also, I forgot to mention this last time but the title "What We Saw From the Outside" is based off of an album title I once saw called "What We Saw From the Cheap Seats." I never listened to it nor do I even know the artist, but I give credit where credit is due.

Lastly, THANKS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS, FAVORITES, AND FOLLOWS. Snap! I was not expecting such positive feedback for such a bizarre story. So thank you so much **A person, Generala, AngelicParadox91, The Empty Lord, Kamil the Awesome, Shadow Ninja 1011, Anarion Star-Dragon, Guest, AR14, Wardiemoo, Cheeky Charm, Rawr I'm a Toaster **(I really like that name by the way), **Canada Cowboy, A Shadow's Lament, forty2smurfs, HenryTheWise, loveandzelink, Ellie, sun-wind dragon, Serena and Abella, **and **Arcane Valor **for all your amazing reviews!

If you haven't noticed, I really love feedback, so please share your thoughts with me! Thank you and I hope you enjoyed the teenage angst!

~~Wave~~


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three – Step One

February 17th, 2013

* * *

I rush down the psychiatric stairs at a perfect pace: fast enough to show that I have a purpose but not so fast that someone would think I desperately want to be confessing all my feelings to strangers.

Even though I spent all morning trying to prepare for group therapy, I still ended up being late because I was so lost in my thoughts that I forgot to get off at the right bus stop. I don't know what's making me nervous: participating in therapy for once or seeing Zelda, the one person I met since the accident who didn't turn me away after some awkward goodbye? I feel like I've never been in this building before. Am I really on the basement floor? Does this count as fashionably late? Is room fifteen really at the end of this hallway? And what am I even supposed to wear to group therapy? Since when did clothing matter?

I take a deep breath once I finally reach the door, but questions continue to pop up in my head. Why do people even wear pants? It's already so hot without them, why make it hotter? Shoes I understand, but pants? Pants are dumb.

I breathe again and try to direct my thoughts to reality. I can hear somebody talking in there, a woman by the sound of it. Maybe Zelda? Before I can convince myself otherwise or hate on pants some more, I push the door handle and step into the room.

Ten pairs of eyes immediately land on me and the room goes silent except for the loud pounding of my heart. I can tell by their confused, almost offended stares that I'm obviously not wanted here. I can't believe I thought I was in the first place –

"Link!" a familiar voice calls from across the small room. I look over to see Zelda on the far end of a small circle of teenagers, all of them sitting in various types of chairs. The friendly smile on her face makes me relax and nervous at the same time. "Come here," she urges while patting the vacant chair next to her. "I saved you a seat."

I don't move, though, because everybody is still looking at me. Even though their gazes are no longer suspicious, I find myself hesitant to sit down and open up to strangers.

"Well, come here!" a girl sitting beside Zelda snaps. Her ivory skin, flaming orange hair, and red irises with yellow corneas show that she must be a member of the Twilight, one of Hyrule's indigenous populations. Her purple painted lips stretch into a smirk as she adds, "We don't bite…usually."

Somebody chuckles at that while Zelda sends a pointed glare at the Twilit girl. I know I've been standing too long now and it's awkward, so even though I'm really regretting coming here I move along the pale pink wall and sit in the vacant chair.

"I just finished explaining how group therapy works and all," Zelda whispers, leaning in close like she's telling me a secret. "So I'll give you a quick summary. This group is only from ages twelve to eighteen, because sometimes talking to old, stuffy therapists can be difficult, which is also why I'm running this session. For group therapy there is usually a therapist leading the group, but I'm rather experienced and we want to keep it to just teenagers, so bye-bye old people."

I nod, trying desperately to focus on her words rather than on her brilliant cobalt eyes or the way her white, summary dress exposes the smooth skin of her neck, arms, and legs. Her pretty attire makes me feel underdressed in just my favorite green t-shirt and shorts.

"Now, the point of group therapy isn't to criticize another person or tell them what to do," she continues, and though I can feel everybody looking at us I try to pretend like they're not there. "Group therapy shows us that we're not alone in the world and sometimes just talking about your problems can ease your stress. Helping another person with their problems can increase your self-confidence, too, and listening to people's stories can also be very inspiring. Got that?"

I nod, though I doubt I can retain all that information.

Zelda then faces the group again and says to everybody in a professional yet friendly voice, "How about we all go around in a circle? And be sure to introduce yourself because we have a couple of new members! Midna, do you want to start?"

The Twilit girl on Zelda's other side nods somewhat reluctantly as she reclines in her plush, throne-like chair. Just looking at her makes me feel insignificant; she has a regal presence with her piercing, mischievous red eyes and an intricate metal necklace dangles from around her slender neck. Her metallic tight shorts and her flowing black top decorated with the blue lines of Twilit art make her look like she could be the ruler of her race.

"Well…" she drawls for a moment, her gaze slowly passing over all of us. "I'm Midna –

"Hello, Midna," half the group replies in a robotic voice, and Zelda represses a chuckle at her friend's irritated look.

" – and as some of you know I'm here because Juvie is required to send all their prisoners to therapy, even when they're done with their sentence," she explains in a slightly bitter tone. "My therapy is directed to convince me to let go of my grudge against a certain man who ruined my life, and because I apparently lack consideration for other people."

"When you 'lack consideration,' are you aware of it or does it just happen?" Zelda asks in her most serious voice, but I see the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. Midna raises her eyebrows at her and her purple lips pull into an amused smile. Obviously these two are friends.

"It comes naturally most of the time," Midna admits. "Though I'll confess that I purposely verbally abuse people when they piss me off. We all say things we know are bad sometimes, right? I just happen to do it more often. I don't think that requires therapy."

"But how are you feeling about Zant?" Zelda inquires, and she honestly seems concerned and interested.

"Gonna kill him," Midna replies instantly with complete certainty. The Twilit's face is completely serious and her piercing gaze travels over all of us as she says definitively, "Nobody murders my family and gets away with it."

Her determined words send shivers down my spine, and I don't know what's worse: her family being murdered or the fact that she's planning on doing the same to somebody else.

Zelda and Midna talk some more about her past, how she ran away from the orphanage when she was ten and started a mad hunt for some guy whom she never saw but for a glimpse of his face. She only knew the name Zant because he wrote it on her front door with blood. Talk about gruesome.

At some point they get to talking about her foster parents and Midna says like it's an incredible phenomenon, "They're actually not bad. It's just…it's weird, you know, being in a household that always greets you with a smile and wants to spend time with you. The only annoying part is that Lucy thinks I don't wear enough clothes, but it's…nice."

"I wish knew what it was like having parents like that," a boy sitting beside her adds with a sigh. His long, shiny purple hair sways as he looks at Midna with miserable red eyes. She nods and an understanding passes between them. They must know each other, too…

"If it's okay with Midna, would you like to introduce yourself, Kafei?" Zelda asks politely with an air of professionalism.

Midna nods again and the boy instantly pours his heart out as if he's been waiting for this session the whole week. Fear and confusion make his crimson eyes intense. He has a child-like face– tiny lips, soft features, and small shoulders – but I can tell by his height and constant use of big, confusing words that he must be around my age. His hands move wildly as he explains how his mom and dad, the mayor of Kakariko, are constantly arguing. They refuse to talk to each other or even be in the same room, and when they do talk all they do is call the other "bitch" or "monster" or "biggest-mistake-of-my-life." They always try to put Kafei on a side, often lying to him in the process, and Kafei's dad's political life makes them have to pretend that everything is "fucking fine" all the "fucking time." The father's image has already been tainted when Kafei ran away twice in the past month, and now they're hoping therapy will straighten him out, but obviously it's the parents who could use it more.

Throughout his story other kids chime in when he seems confused about why something happened, or they just express how sorry they are. Occasionally somebody will relate what's happening to him with their own life, and I can tell that it all seems to be working. Kafei appears less tense than he did when he first started and the empathy in the room is almost palpable. Even though I never had family troubles except for recently (which seem like nothing compared to what this kid's been through), I sympathize with him. I feel lighter knowing that such crap isn't happening to me yet heavier knowing that it's happening to somebody else.

I miss a lot of Kafei's story, though, because my focus keeps wavering between him and a certain intelligent blonde beside me. I want to listen to what Kafei has to say even though I don't understand most of his vocabulary, but at the same time I want to watch Zelda's crystal blue eyes shine from wisdom and sympathy. Her hands always rest on her crossed legs, occasionally fidgeting with the end of her dress, and her golden hair hangs in a neat braid over her shoulder. A pair of Triforce earrings dangle from her pointed ears and catch the light occasionally, bringing my attention back to her just when I'm about to refocus on Kafei.

Eventually we move on from Kafei to a girl named Anju who recently lost her mother. I don't like how easily I can relate to her, but at the same time it's comforting knowing that somebody else is in pain yet still surviving. Like me, she doesn't want to be with her friends anymore because she's ashamed that she won't be any fun, her motivation for school is nonexistent, and she lies in bed awake nearly every night. Unlike me, she finds joy in taking care of her cuccoos but she doesn't understand why. Zelda suggests that taking care of an animal means she is needed, and having a purpose will help make Anju more active and involved with life, which sounds smart to me.

We gradually make our way around the circle. There's a twelve year-old named Navi who has severe separation issues, and though I feel bad for her she annoys me by the way she constantly yells "Listen!" whenever she thinks one of us isn't paying attention. Her cry is usually directed towards Midna, who doesn't even try to hide her displeasure with Navi. I listen to Mill, a dirty guy about my age who has an odd obsession with windmills, try to convince everybody that he doesn't have bipolar disorder, that he's just happy now and sad later, what's wrong with that? Then there's Makar, a tiny thirteen-year old who doesn't stop tapping his foot due to his case of Tourette's, and Maggie, a kleptomaniac who is still in Juvie and hates the world.

When we finally reach Shiro, a fifteen-year old boy with inky black eyes who sits beside me, I feel like my mind and heart went to emotional boot camp. I never knew there were so many problems before…how does one person take it all in? Dealing with mental illness or depression or an awful family or losing control of your body or hating everybody…it makes me feel loathing, sympathy, self-pity, anguish, dejection, frustration, confusion, awe, and fear. Though Zelda and the others keep telling us to remain hopeful, it's hard to have faith when the person next to me wishes he could be invisible.

Shiro has a weird fear called agoraphobia, which means he is terrified of anything outside his home. Even now in this small room his face is red as he lists his fears in a breathless, rapid voice. There's cars, germs, wild animals, broken glass, people who don't know where they're going because they're on their phones, elevators that aren't safe because they haven't been inspected in over a year, rabies, bats, toxic chemicals, people who are rude and get in fights, frost bite, sun burn, cancer, drug addicts, drunks, people with mental illnesses (no offense), guns, broken staplers, scissors, fire, people who fall asleep and forget to turn the stove off, uneven stairs, slippery sidewalks, falling trees, corrupted governments, lightning, rusty nails, people who try to kill other people with rusty nails, racial violence, heavy doors that will close on your fingers, and the list goes on and on…

"I mean, look at Link," he sputters while gesturing to me, and the sound of my name wakes me up from my stupor of emotions. "What if I get a black eye? Or a scar like that? What if he decides to take revenge on the world and cut my throat? I mean, no offense, you seem fine, but what if one day you're like, hey, why am I the only one with a scar? And then you cut me?"

Everybody is looking at me now, waiting for a response, but all I can do is stare at Shiro. What. The. Hell.

Then again, he has a right to be scared of the outside world where there are people who don't understand what happened and people you love who you could hurt with a simple mistake. Stepping outside means you're allowing the world to take everything you have away from you…but not stepping outside is the same as not having anything in the first place.

"I-I mean," Shiro stutters, still looking at me with terrified dark eyes. "Why should I ever go outside when there's only pain waiting for me?"

Zelda immediately starts talking about how great the world can be even though it's dangerous and terrifying, and the rest of the group also jumps in and tells Shiro all the great stuff that exists outside his house. I find it odd how hopeful these people are, especially when they have some of the most miserable histories I've ever heard.

Soon they die down and Shiro no longer wants to talk, so Zelda turns to me and says in a soft voice, "Link, would you like to introduce yourself?"

I look at her and admire the curiosity and intelligence in her eyes as panic begins to build. I've never participated in therapy, and now I'm about to with a bunch of strangers? If I talk about my problems then it means I have problems, and I know it's incredibly dumb but I've been in this denial stage for a long time. The weirdest part is that I know I'm in denial yet I just can't get out of it. Sure, I lay awake every night thinking about Colin and my muteness, but I can never talk about it. I can't even think past the memories, and I haven't been learning sign language because if I learn then I am giving in to my muteness. Learning sign language and participating in therapy makes _this _– being mute, having everybody hate me, Colin's condition – real.

Everybody's looking at me, however, and they're silently waiting for my response. They all participated, so it'd be rude if I didn't…and now Zelda's looking at me and I don't want to see disappointment in her eyes.

Holding back a sigh, I write, _I'm Link._

"Hi, Link," everybody but Shiro replies, and it is oddly welcoming.

Sadly that isn't enough of an answer, so I erase and then write, _I'm in therapy b/c two months ago I was in an accident and now I'm mute and maybe depressed._

I watch their eyes read my message and I, surprisingly, see no judgment in them.

"And how has your therapy been going?" Zelda asks with genuine curiosity, even though she's asked everybody that question.

I hesitate and debate on just writing _fine,_ but everybody knows _fine_ is a cover for something worse. Reluctantly, I write _I don't like it_.

"If you liked it then it wouldn't be working," Zelda replies with a small smile, and I'm reminded of when we first met. She had told me the same thing when I asked her why she bothered with therapy if it just made her cry.

"So you're a new mute?" Midna asks as she peers at me closely. "Must be a tough transition, huh?"

I just nod.

"Must have been a physical wound," Kafei muses and I can feel his gaze run along my scar. He shudders. "Was it excruciatingly painful?"

I nod more vigorously. Truthfully, the moment when my throat was cut is partly blocked from my memory, but sometimes I have dreams and I can feel my skin and vocal chords being ripped apart and a pain that shoots through my spine and blood, making the world seem on fire and cold at the same time.

"What's been hardest about it? Being mute?" Zelda asks. She notices my hesitance and adds, "Just write whatever comes into your head."

I really don't want to explain myself, so much so that I've done nothing for all my therapy sessions with Gaebora, but everybody else spoke and Zelda's right there…. Despite my better judgment, I let myself write whatever comes to mind.

_Loneliness. People avoid talking to me. They start off really friendly and then when I can't respond they leave._

I hold it up so the group can see before erasing and adding more.

_And it's embarrassing, shameful, and reminds me of the accident. Basically, I hate it._

"There's no reason to be ashamed," Zelda hurriedly interjects in a compassionate voice.

"Yeah, some people could really shut up more often," Midna adds bitterly with a glare towards Navi, but the girl's oblivious.

"Nobody is judging you for being mute," Anju says and a couple of people nod.

Though I feel a little better knowing some people don't hate me for being mute, it doesn't make the shame go away.

"What about the accident?" Zelda asks after a lapse of silence. "Do you want to talk about that?"

The accident…what could I write? My marker is pressed to the whiteboard but it doesn't move. In my mind I've returned to that moment when I'm reaching out towards Colin. His mouth is hanging open and a trickle of blood leaks from the edge, down his round chin, and then floats away. Blood and his flaxen hair mingle together to form strands of sticky, stiff, brown and crimson clumps that leave smears of red against his ashen face. His skin is a mix of blue and gray like he isn't made of flesh but some strange, decaying stone. Even with his eyes closed I feel as though he's staring at me, looking at me with hopelessness, regret, and misery. He's watching me try to save him but he knows that it's too late, so he doesn't respond. He doesn't even try to live. As I stretch my arm that is too short to reach him but not short enough to make me try a different approach, blood slowly spills out around his head. I watch the liquid move in swirls until it forms a perfect ark and making a halo the color of fresh, black blood.

My hand jerks, emitting a loud squeak, and I quickly write, _No_.

I focus on the silence and not on Colin's lifeless face. He's so close…why can't I reach him? Why won't he reach for me?

"That's okay," Zelda says in a comforting voice but I know she'd rather have me tell her everything. "Do you want to tell us about your family maybe? Or your sign language?"

I run a hand through my mop of blond hair and shake my head. All I can see is that bloody halo.

There's a brief moment of silence where everybody just watches me, but, thankfully, Zelda interferes.

"I think that's enough for today," she announces with forced cheerfulness. "Great job everybody, and I hope things get better for all of you."

Everybody stands up then and they immediately start talking to each other in gentle tones. Are they like the kids in school? Do they talk about me?

_Did you watch Psych last night?_

_Hey, Anju, I thought maybe you'd like…I don't know…_

_No, Navi, I don't watch Psych._

_I mean, just as friends, or not…_

_Mother fucker!_

_Listen! It's such a great show. We should watch it together!_

_I'd love to._

_Go home, Navi. _

"Hey…Link?" Zelda's voice snaps me out of my eavesdropping. I look up at her to see that she's closer to me know, close enough that I notice a freckle on her collarbone. Her eyebrows are scrunched together with concern as she whispers, "It's okay if you don't want to participate in group therapy – I understand it can be hard at first – but I hope it was useful to you. I didn't ruin all hope of you having a helpful session of therapy, did I?"

I shake my head and I force my lips to form a tiny smile. _No_, I write. _You were very good._

"Thank you," she replies sweetly but the concern remains. "Do you want me to get Gaebora? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I shake my head and just focus on Zelda to get the image out of my mind. Her skin is slightly tan, making her white dress stand out, and her golden hair reflects the light from the ceiling. Her nose is perfectly smooth, and she would be flawless if it weren't for the freckle under her left eye, but I like that freckle. It makes her look a little more human.

"Well…" she drawls as her voice returns to a normal volume and she speaks with nonchalance again. "Midna and I always go out to lunch after group therapy because it is pretty mentally taxing. We like to just relax, you know, get our mind off of all the sad things in the world. Maybe, if you're not busy, you'd like to come?"

Did I hear that correctly? I replay the words in my head and I think she said it, but were they addressed to me? She's looking right at me, but who would want to hang out with me?

"I-I mean," Zelda stammers after I don't respond for a long moment. Oh Goddesses, she probably mistook my confused expression for one of incredulousness. "Sorry, you don't have to feel obligated – "

I grab her hand, stopping her from standing up, and she looks at me with surprise. I smile before taking my white board and writing, _I'd love to. Sorry, I was still lost in my mind._

"Oh," she replies simply as a blush slowly forms on her cheeks. "Great! So we'll just…"

"Let's leave now before Navi comes running back to me," Midna, who seemingly appeared out of thin air, hurriedly whispers into Zelda's ear while tugging on her arm. Zelda nods and I follow them out the door. We briskly walk through the building, and it isn't until we're outside that Midna snaps her crimson eyes on me and asks, "You're coming, too?"

"Yeah," Zelda quickly cuts in before I can feel embarrassed and unwanted. "I invited him."

Midna just shrugs and her purple lips pull into either a mischievous or friendly smile – I can't tell.

"Just don't talk too much, you hear?" she says lightly in a way I know that isn't meant to be cruel. "I can't stand people who talk to much."

"Obviously," Zelda replies with playful animosity. "You were about to bite Navi's head off back there."

"Because she's frickin' annoying!" Midna retorts with exasperation.

"Come on," Zelda sighs as we walk briskly down the sidewalk. "You know she's sick."

"I know she has separation issues and crap, but that doesn't excuse her from being the most obnoxious person in the world. I mean, have you _heard _the way she yells _listen_ all the time? It's absolutely the most strident, irritating, and infantile noise I've ever heard. It makes me want to punch babies!"

"And _this_ is why you need therapy," Zelda replies with a small smirk. She looks at me like we're sharing in some special joke, and I smile.

"Come on, Link, you heard her," Midna says as we turn the corner onto a slightly busier street. "Don't you have the urge to punch something right now?"

I uncap my marker and in very sloppy handwriting (because writing and walking do not mix) I scribble, _Unlike you, my baby punching urges are under control_.

Zelda chuckles, which makes me feel oddly satisfied, and I quickly discover that her smile is intoxicating.

"I'm being double-teamed here," Midna huffs. "If Makar were here he'd agree with me."

"Oh, that's unfair," Zelda scolds as they suddenly turn into a small restaurant called _Telma's_. "He has Tourette's!"

Without any hesitation they both glide past an exiting couple, weave through a clutter of tables, chairs, and customers, and sit down at a table near the window, all the while continuing their argument.

"A likely story," Midna replies snidely as she pulls back her bright orange hair into a long, sleek ponytail.

"Likely?" Zelda repeats incredulously with a smirk on her face as we sit down. "My, my, Midna, your arguments are getting weaker every time I see you. I think you're going soft."

"My therapist would definitely disagree with you," Midna huffs while waving to somebody over my shoulder.

"Part of the reason Midna is in therapy is because she 'lacks compassion for human life'," Zelda reminds me, and I like the way she leans towards me and whispers the words as if this is our little secret.

"I just hate the world," Midna says simply. "Last time I checked that was normal for a teenager."

I agree with her there, but a large woman with sharp amber eyes interrupts us before Zelda can make a clever retort.

"Aw, how are my favorite girls doing today?" the waitress asks as she brushes russet dreadlocks out of her heavily painted face.

"Well," Zelda replies with a smile.

"Irritated," Midna groans.

The woman just smiles though as her gaze turns to me. She shifts her weight to her hip, making her patterned skirt sway with the motion and her enormous breasts jiggle a bit. Literally, they're the biggest I've ever seen. It'd be rude if I didn't notice.

"And whose this?" she asks as her eyes scan me up and down.

_Link_, I quickly write.

"You go to therapy with 'em, Link?"

I nod.

"Well, I hope I won't be seeing yah too often," she responds with a tinge of sadness in her voice. "These girls have been coming here together for a little over a year now, and I'm waiting for the day when they don' need mah pies to handle the therapy. Though I must admit, I'll miss ya'll once yah finally heal."

They all just smile at each other for a moment before the woman asks if they'd like their usual, which they do. I ask Zelda to order for me because I've never been here before, and she assures me that as long as I'm a fan of delicious flavor than I'll be happy with my meal.

"So, Link?" Zelda asks once the woman leaves. "How are you feeling after your first group therapy session?"

_Overwhelmed_, I write and they nod in agreement.

"Yeah, and Shiro isn't looking any better," Midna adds while ripping the wrapper off of her straw. "His obsession with becoming invisible is a little disturbing."

"Hey now," Zelda interjects before Midna can talk anymore. "We always eat here on the rule that we will _not_ talk about therapy or any other mental issues."

The waitress, who tells me her name is Telma, returns with our drinks before running off to help another customer. I take the moment to admire the quaint restaurant. The worn, woven rugs and wooden décor give it a rustic atmosphere, but the many windows illuminate the room with natural light. There are few customers here at this hour, but judging by the bar that Telma is currently cleaning I have a feeling that it is much busier at night.

"Oh!" Midna exclaims, brining my attention back to our table. "Speaking of mental issues, my foster parents agreed to hosting this year's beginning-of-an-awful-school-year party!"

"Really?" Zelda cries gleefully. "That's awesome!"

_What?_ I write before the best friends leave me behind with their rapid chatter.

"Every year we try to host a party celebrating the beginning of the school year for all the kids in group therapy," Zelda explains hurriedly, and she does that thing again where she leans in close and talks in hushed tones, but this time she's rapid with excitement. "School sucks for most of us, so this is a good way to remind everybody that life isn't all bad."

"The problem is finding a family that want a bunch of mentally unstable people in their home," Midna adds quickly. "Thankfully, my foster parents are doing this weird thing where they try to make me happy, so they were all for it."

"Everybody's going and you should come too!" Zelda says promptly. "I mean…if you want to. You don't have to, but it's really fun. I know it doesn't look that way because you just met everyone while at group therapy, but we take group therapy really seriously so they aren't that fun then, but really it is and…and I can tell by that dazed look on your face that I'm rambling again."

She's blushing as she brushes a couple of loose blonde hair out of her face.

Smiling, I write, _No! That's my excited face._

"Your excited face makes you look stoned," Midna teases and Zelda chuckles at that.

"Anyway," Zelda drawls as she props her face with her palm and eyes me closely. "It's next Friday starting at six. Thinking about coming?"

I nod, even though this is the most social I've been in weeks and the idea of having fun with strangers is boggling, but at least Zelda will be there.

"Great!" she chirps while digging through her leather bag. Pulling out her phone, she asks, "I'll need your number though so I can give you more details later."

Oh shit, phone number swap. Anybody under the age of thirty knows how important a phone number swap can be to building a relationship – as in friendship…or more. Maybe just the thought that somebody might actually want to talk to me makes this all more exciting, or because it's Zelda and she's –

"Link?" she asks, interrupting my thoughts and brining me back to reality. I smile apologetically at her before taking her phone and typing my number in. This shouldn't make me so excited but damn, I can't help it.

For some reason this thought reminds me of my original purpose for coming to group therapy and I grab a pen from my pocket.

"What's this for?" She inquires as I hold it out for her.

_It's yours_, I write. _I forgot to give it back after you lent it to me._

Her expression remains blank for a couple of seconds, and then her mouth forms a cute "o" shape as she remembers the event.

"Here," she smiles. "You can keep it."

Our fingers brush when she gently pushes the pen back to me, and I hate myself for being excited over a simple gesture, but from that moment on the rest of the meal is, dare I say, enjoyable. Midna's bitter thoughts and Zelda's clever retorts make me laugh, and then I realize that I haven't truly laughed since the accident. There is no noise of course, just a sharp intake of breath and my shoulders shake a little, but I like the soreness my face has after grinning for so long. It's a foreign feeling, though I am relieved that it still exists. Even though my throat feels tight and rough after a while, I ignore it and let myself enjoy some good food and conversation. It isn't until I'm walking through my bedroom door about an hour and a half later – when everything around me is as silent as myself – that I remember the bloody halo.

* * *

_Author's Note_

So this time limit I'm putting on myself (update every two weeks) kinda brings the quality down and this was a long chapter…but, like, okay. I don't know what I'm saying.

Anyway, from here on out the plot will start rolling a bit more now that the other kids are introduced and we can focus on Midna's party, and a party wouldn't be a party without all the drama!

To be honest, I have never attended therapy except for speech therapy, so I am uncomfortable about how it all works. The group therapy in this chapter is very unlikely to occur in reality since it was led by a fellow mentally unstable person, but for the sake of the story I got over it so I hope you can to. Also, if you want to know who the other kids are in this story and why I chose their special situation please go to the ABOUT MY STORIES section of my profile for more information.

Lastly, thanks for all the fabulous reviews **ShadowNinja1011, Oblivion Star Seeker, ScooterJLM, AngelicParadox91, SkYeLiMiT, Reyser, iranda20, A Shadow's Lament, loveandzelink, Kamil the Awesome, Arcane Valor, Canada Cowboy, **and **Inu Wolfie**. Thanks again!

Feedback = :D

~~Wave~~


	4. Chapter Four

Ah, day late! Sorry! At least my homework consisted of reading an essay about mental illness, which was very helpful.

Anyway, please remember the codes for communication…

"_sign language"_

_writing_

**texts/emails/other electronics**

* * *

Chapter Four – The Alter

March 4th, 2013

* * *

Zelda is a bizarre texter.

The weirdest thing is that we just met but we text constantly, and when we're not texting I'm thinking of a reason to do so. Is it weird that I ask her for help on my physics homework even though I have the equation somewhere in my notes? Or that I ask her what time certain television shows are on even though I have no intention of watching them? Stranger still, she actually responds to all my questions, and I know what I'm saying is stupid but I can't stop. I can only hope that she responds because she wants to, not because she's being polite.

Grandma teases me mercilessly about my constant texting, even though she used to loathe it because it "ruined all genuine relationships," but with me being mute it is my strongest form of communication so she stops with the complaints. Unlike Grandma, Aryll, who has an opinion about everything, doesn't say a word. The only thing she says to me all week is, "Can we go to school a little early today?"

I don't realize her texting habits are bizarre until Monday, two days after I gave her my number. We're in the middle of a "conversation" when she types,

**Dearest, Link,**

**I am currently quite busy and thus lack the time to converse with you. Please respect my wishes for solitude and forgive me for my leave.**

**Sincerely,**

**Princess**

I think she's joking, so I reply,

**How poetic of you.**

But she never responds to that. The next day a similar message is sent,

**Dearest, Link,**

**Please excuse me, for I am consumed with my work momentarily. I shall converse with you again at a later date.**

**Sincerely,**

**Princess.**

Another weird habit is that Zelda is always very grammatically correct in her texting – she never uses abbreviations and proper punctuation is a must – but occasionally she'll slip into much more colloquial language, such as "nothin," "em," and "probs."

But it's probably nothing strange. We've all got quirks; for example, the other night I woke up from a nightmare (as usual) and then spent the next hour reading our past text messages as my heart rate slowly returned to normal and the sweat evaporated off my skin. The bright screen in such a dark room burned my eyes, but I read our conversations over and over until I unwillingly slipped into sleep, thus slipping into another nightmare.

* * *

The red light in front of me turns green, and I carefully accelerate Grandma's rustic car through the intersection and onto Midna's street. The last time I went to a party it ended with me becoming mute and Colin lying in a pool of blood. On a cheerier note, I'll be with people more mentally unstable than me (making me the most normal one in the room, which is a rare occurrence these days) and Zelda will be there. It makes me all very nervous and excited, but mostly nervous. Many times this week I was incredibly close to canceling, but the idea of me being social made Grandma so happy that she gave me extra hugs and sang louder than before, making me feel obliged to go to the party for her sake.

By the time I reach Midna's house – a brown bungalow that is in the process of being consumed by thick bushes and a variety of flowers – my palms are sweaty and my pulse is racing. Going to parties was never a problem, but now I feel like I'm heading into a war zone. Ugh, why is everything so dumb?

I park in the small driveway and turn the car off to sit in silence for a few moments. Breathing slowly, I look into the windows but I can't tell if anybody is here yet.

Oh. Damn it.

How could I forget? _Always_ go to a party ten minutes late to be fashionable. And I can't just sit in the car, because she's probably noticed me pulling up and if I sit here it'll be rude. Now it's just going to be Midna and me and we're going to have nothing to talk about…. Okay, so not the end of the world but I used to be a little awkward around strangers, now I'm awkward around everybody. I am not in the mood to deal with my social anxiety.

I sigh. Ugh, why am _I_ so dumb?

Grabbing my mini whiteboard, I march up to the front door. Knocking, I tell myself to stop being dumb but it has little effect.

I hear the sound of laughter from inside before sthe door swings open. Midna is standing in the threshold with a surprisingly cheerful smile on her face for somebody who is always criticizing the world.

The sound of laughter and chatter is louder now that the door is open. Does this mean I am not the first one here? It's sad how relieved I am at that.

"Hey, Link," Midna greets casually and then spins back around. I follow her through the living room (which rivals my house with its hoard of trinkets, a clear sign that her foster parents are near the age of Grandma) to the kitchen. Zelda's sitting at the counter in just jean capris and a white t-shirt, laughing as Midna says something to her about somebody named Tetra. A camera hangs from around her neck, just like the first time we met, and her golden hair is tousled yet pretty all at once. Now her eyes turn to me and her smile widens. She calls my name, and it isn't until a chorus of "hello, Link" and giggles comes from behind her that I realize there are other people here. Kafei and Anju are sitting beside Zelda at the counter, while the rest of the group is huddled at a wooden table a couple feet away.

"Looks like you're fashionably late," Zelda chides as I stand next to her.

I look at my watch – my father's watch, to be exact – and read 6:00. I'm exactly on time.

My confusion is evident and Zelda's smile turns into a little smirk. She leans towards me and whispers, "I think you'll come to find that we aren't like most people. Nobody thinks of coming late because that makes no sense. Why waste the little time we have together for fashion? Midna and I were wondering if you'd do that."

"Which means," Midna adds from behind me as she leans against the counter. "That you're not normal." Picking up a glass of soda, she raises it high and shouts, "He's not normal!"

"He's not normal!" everybody repeats with their glasses raised, their faces flushed with excitement, and their voices loud with joy. They laugh afterwards and collapse into a babble of multiple conversations. This atmosphere – this careless bliss and freedom of judgment – is such a foreign setting that I'm stunned. Just last week I listened to everybody (except for Maggie and Shiro, who aren't here) explain how miserable their lives are, but here they are now practically on top of each other as they try to talk over one another like they're the best of friends. They're eating whatever they see without a care and saying whatever they want without a thought. A mere second ago all that welcoming carelessness was directed towards me, and my chest fills with a warm sensation that I haven't felt in a while.

"Aw, did you forget this was a costume party?" Zelda tries to whine, but fails due to her irremovable smile and chuckle.

I can feel my qualms slowly start to vanish and I smile back at her. She had told me through texts that this was a costume party, but after I replied that I seriously doubted that she caved and told me she was kidding. Maybe a lame inside joke, but an inside joke nevertheless.

_I see you didn't forget_, I quickly write on my board, wishing I were cleverer.

"What? Are you going to say you like my witch costume?" she replies with a teasing grin.

_I was gong to say nerd, but witch is much more fitting_.

"Ha, ha," she fake laughs though she's still smiling. "And I take nerd as a compliment. That means you think I'm smart."

_Good. I meant it as a compliment. After all, you know everything about physics._

"Hardly, force equations are simple," she brushes off but her face takes a slight tint of red. "You're just too lazy to look through your notes. Or take notes. Do you take notes?"

_When the weather's right_.

"You're a picky genius, aren't you?"

_The best geniuses are_.

"Drama queen makes more sense actually. I bet you just _love_ to gossip."

_Totally. Especially with all the friends I don't have._

Zelda smiles but she doesn't say anything, our conversation reaching one of those awkward pauses I always dread nowadays. I look closely at her face, trying to detect if I did something wrong, and I notice her smile is different. It's a kind of nervous and secretive smile, like she knows something I don't. Placing her glass down, she turns to face me completely and stares intensely at me for a second. She wets her lips, and then her hands begin to make strange yet familiar motions. She places a hand on her heart. My. Taps two fingers on each hand together twice. Name. Her index finger moves in a zig zag pattern. Z. She forms a fist with her thumb tucked below her fingers. E. Her index finger and thumb become perpendicular. L. Her thumb and middle finger form and "o" while her index finger is pointing to the sky. D. She forms a fist again but with her thumb pointing up. A. My name is Zelda.

Her lips are pulled tightly in a nervous smile and her face is flushed red. She won't look me in the eyes, and I should probably stop starring but oh goddesses did she just…did she really just…

"Surprise," she says meekly with a nervous chuckle.

I never cared much for the whiteboard but I understood why it was necessary. Nobody knows sign language unless they're mute, deaf, or know somebody who is mute or deaf; therefore, not many people know it. Such a fact never bothered me because I can't expect people outside my family to learn for my sake, but Zelda just…

"I've been learning all week," she mumbles, and I can tell by her red skin and unsteady gaze that she'll be rambling in a second. "I'm not very good, of course, 'cause it's only been a week, but I figured you'd like to…I don't know, not use a whiteboard…not that there's anything wrong with that I just…"

She trails off once she notices my grin, and, sweet Farore, I am genuinely grinning for once. I can't stop. My face literally hurts but oh goddesses has anybody ever been that nice to me? Does she realize how incredible that is? My heart is racing, and suddenly I feel elated. The warmth inside my chest grows and the noise everybody is making sounds musical rather than an obnoxious clatter, even Navi's constant "Listen!" and Makar's occasional vulgarity and Mill's manic laughter is beautiful.

My hands are jerky but I get the desire message across.

"_O. M. G._"

Zelda immediately laughs, either out of amusement or relief, and replies with flawless movements, "_I thought you were mad_."

"_How could I be mad_?" All this time I've adapted to other people's language either by writing on my hand or bobbing my head like a dumb doll, but now somebody's adapted to my language. Can this be real?

"Oh Nayru, now they got a secret code," Kafei jokes from across the counter, and the thought of a secret code makes me grin even more, if that is even possible.

"Though I must admit I'm not very good," Zelda says sheepishly. "I don't know much."

"_You are much better than me_." And I'm not lying. The few words she performed were so clean and confident. She's clearly been practicing.

The table of kids cheer for reasons unknown – something about a crumping contest – and their beautiful sound reminds us of their presence.

"Come on," Zelda smiles as she stands up off the stool. "Let's join the party."

* * *

"And the little brat wouldn't shut up!" Mill shouts, raising his hands to the air with exasperation as he retells his latest incident. He's grinning though, possibly because he's in the happy mood of his bipolar disorder or because he's enjoying the party.

We're all sitting around a table filled with various food brought by different people. We lean in close, our elbows touching and our knees brushing each other's as we listen eagerly to every word. We've been at the table for over an hour and most of the food is gone or on the floor, but everybody is still smiling just as much as they did when I walked in and they cheered, "He's not normal!"

"She kept going on and on about how organized sports are fascist," Mill continues rapidly. "I mean, I totally agree, but she was just _so annoying_ and _so pretentious_ that I couldn't take it anymore! We should've been reviewing for our test but she was taking all the class time talking about her stupid opinions, so I did everybody a favor and went up to her desk, glared at her for a solid ten seconds…and then flipped her table."

Everybody laughs at that, except for Zelda, whose cheery giggle makes everything seem so perfectly unreal.

"What happened then?" Kafei asks excitedly. "Did you get thrown out?"

"No!" Mill replies instantly with glee. "I sat back down like nothing had happened. The whole class was silent for a couple of seconds and the brat was frozen in place, but then Mrs. Halpern started talking about agriculture and shit as if nothing had happened. It was perfect!"

I expect Zelda to go into therapist mode and ask why Mill failed to control his table-flipping urges, but she just laughs and asks, "What did the girl do? Did she call you out?"

"No!" Mill yells again with even more excitement. "She sat there for a couple of minutes, stunned, and then stood her table back up and collected her things. I've never felt more empowered! Well, also a little guilty, but also very empowered."

"That's not nearly as bad as that video of Midna last year," Anju interjects, and she's already shaking with laughter at the memory. "Remember that? How you attacked that woman at the market?"

"Oh Goddesses," Midna groans but she can't suppress a small smile. "I still don't regret that."

Anju instantly falls into a fit of giggles, along with everybody else, but she snorts occasionally and that just makes Kafei laugh to the point where his eyes are tearing up.

"_What is it?" _I sign to Zelda, who immediately grins at my question.

"Only the funniest thing Midna has ever done," she replies. "Midna, give me your phone. We _have _to watch it again."

"I don't see what's so funny," Midna grumbles as she tosses her smart phone to Zelda, who is already typing something into Youtube. "That idiotic woman totally deserved what she got."

"I never saw this video!" Navi whines, and when nobody responds she says louder. "Listen! I never saw this video!"

"You can see it now," Zelda answers patiently as she holds up the phone so that we can all see it. The video starts playing but we can't hear it because Anju is still laughing/snorting uncontrollably.

"Calm yourself!" Makar yells and Kafei covers her mouth, muffling her giggles to an acceptable volume.

We're all squished together as we watch a video of Midna standing in line behind a rather plump woman. Judging from the angle, the video was likely taken from a security camera, which makes me wonder if it's legal to post that kind of footage online, but whatever. A plump woman dressed in too much wool is complaining about the price of something and Midna is clearly irritated. Her arms are crossed, her foot tapping restlessly, and a deep scowl stretches her pale face. After a full minute of the woman being the most annoying customer ever, Midna slams her can of soda in front of the cashier and practically growls to the other customer, "Either pay now or leave."

The woman looks stunned and she instantly start reprimanding Midna for being so rude, but of course Midna will have none of that.

"Listen, you oaf," she snarls while towering over the woman, the intensity of her voice a little loss due to poor video quality but fierce nevertheless. "Of course you have to pay a lot of money, you bought ten bags of potato chips along with a bunch of other fatty junk that won't help you with your diet! And you have terrible taste in everything! Salt and vinegar? Seriously? Those are disgusting! And your shoes! Are you that gullible that you'll buy hundred rupee shoes that claim to tone your butt but obviously don't? Also, why would you ever buy the salads here? Their amount of dressing to their amount of lettuce is absurdly disproportionate, and that much dressing will go straight to your butt, which is not being toned by the way! And your Weight Watchers' pre-made meals will be pointless with all that garbage you're buying. If you're going to fail dieting, at least eat tasty junk food! Can you do nothing right?"

That should've been the last of it, but oh no, Midna was on a rant that couldn't be controlled.

"And speaking of idiocy," she snaps, spinning to the cashier. "Your labels on the milk cartons have a grammatical error that a first grader could pick up on! _It_ with an apostrophe means _it is_ rather than being a possessive, so _it's taste will make you say moo moo moo _doesn't make sense! And your organization of the soup isle is simply disgusting! Do you know how to organize anything? You call this great service! It's pathetic!"

Midna whirls back to the woman, who looks either ready to cry or punch walls, and yells, "You two are the reason the human race is failing! Go home and hate yourselves for at least three and a half days then go to therapy and ask how you can stop lowering the IQ of everybody in this goddess forsaken town! Honestly! It's as if – _oof_!"

Before she can say another word the woman grabs a bag of potato chips and whacks Midna in the face with it. The bag rips open and chips fly everywhere as Midn'a head snaps to the side. The woman continues to chuck chip bags at Midna in a frenzy of junk food, and by now Anju can't hold it in anymore. She releases an incredibly loud laugh for such a small girl and then falls off her chair to continue snorting on the floor.

The rest of the video is drowned out by everybody's laughter, and even though I know my body is shaking with silent laughter, I feel as though their sounds are mine.

"I have no regrets," Midna states simply while barely suppressing a smile. She's clearly still proud of what she said to those people.

"You ain't got nothin' to be ashamed of," somebody exclaims in an unfamiliar accent. "That dumb lass had it comin'!"

It takes me a second before I realize that Zelda was the one who had said that, and in an Islander accent no less. With all the noise nobody else notices. Maybe it's another quirk of hers?

The commotion dies down, and after a minute or so of nibbling on the remains of food and casually chatting with each other, Navi yells, "Listen!" and suggests that we watch some new comedy movie called "Role Models."

"Isn't that rated R?" Anju asks suspiciously.

"So?" Navi replies as if that was the dumbest question in the world.

"You're thirteen," Kafei reminds her.

"So?"

"We watched a way more inappropriate movie last year," Midna interjects with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And 'Role Models' is funny. Let's just watch it."

"I'm sure you've heard me say more vulgar things anyway," Makar adds with a chuckle just as his leg jerks and he knees the table. He winces but doesn't mention it.

We begin to gradually shift to the other room, and I look to Zelda just to make sure she's coming. She's walking slowly but her hand is skillfully trailing along the table, snatching up wallets and cell phones and slipping them into her small leather bag with incredible grace. Out of the corner of her eye she catches me staring at her. Her lips pull into a wicked smile and she winks at me before sauntering to the other room as if nothing happened.

Did Zelda just steal? Surely not…maybe it's a practical joke I'm unaware of?

Shrugging it off, I follow her into the living room where the rest of the group is split up into clusters and are having casual conversations. Anju and Kafei are sitting unusually close together on the couch, Makar and Mill are chuckling together by the window, and Midna and Navi are arguing about how to work the T.V..

I watch Zelda scan the room, her mouth turned into a small frown and her blue eyes glazed with boredom. She stands with her shoulders back, her hands placed defiantly on her hips, and her head held high as if she's surveying her workers. The cheery sparkle in her eyes has been replaced with determination and fierce intelligence. She doesn't look like the person I was laughing with about fifteen minutes ago, but a vicious leader.

Her strong gaze snaps to me and gives me a once-over. I feel hot under her calculating stare while she asks curtly, "What yah lookin' at?"

And that accent. Does she often slip into it?

When I don't respond she narrows her eyes for a second before releasing a bored sigh and making her way towards Midna. Curious, I follow and stand beside her.

"Listen! You press this button!" Navi exclaims with exasperation while pounding on the remote.

"Goddesses, Navi, I think I know how to work my own T.V.!" Midna snaps and snatches the remote. "Zelda, be a doll and tell her to stop being so infuriating."

"Yah sure?" she asks slyly as she gathers her hair in her hands and flips her long blonde locks into a tight bun on top of her head. I can't help but be fascinated at how her hands expertly move about her head to form a perfect coil of hair. "It's rather amusin' to me."

Midna, probably noticing her strange accent, peers suspiciously at Zelda and me. Navi grabs the remote out of her hand, and effectively distracts her.

"Well, it's infuriating me!" Midna snarls, mostly to Navi. The two girls grapple with the remote for a couple of seconds before Zelda yawns loudly, clearly conveying her indifference.

"Great," she huffs while rolling her shoulders, her body emitting a couple of pops as her back cracks. Sighing, she asks in a lazy tone, "Yah got any whiskey? Or rum?"

Whoa. I didn't take Zelda for a drinker.

Apparently, neither does Midna. She releases the remote and stares at her friend with calculating red eyes. Navi, oblivious, let's out a victorious whoop and starts messing with the T.V. again, but Midna doesn't care anymore.

"Zelda?" Midna whispers as if she can't see the person in front of her who is obviously her best friend.

Sighing dramatically, Zelda looks at her nails and picks at them with her thumb.

"Why does everybody always want to speak with Zelda?" she grumbles, and the use of third person just adds to my confusion. "She's so dull and proper – it ain't right. The lass could have so much more if she'd just git up off her ass and do somethin' _rebellious_ for once."

Midna's face falls a bit as if she understands the situation, but I still have no clue what the hell is going on. I stare at her, silently demanding that she explain this to me, and Midna glances at me with a look that says _I'll tell you later_.

"Can I speak to Zelda?" Midna asks in an unusually calm and deliberate voice.

"No," Zelda (or not Zelda) retorts tersely. "I just want some whiskey."

"We don't have whiskey."

"Then I'll git some."

"I won't let you."

"Then _he'll_ git some," Zelda snaps while shoving her thumb in my direction. "Boy's been followin' me all night. I'm sure he'd love to help a pretty lass out, won't yah?"

She smiles wickedly and I feel my ears burn. What is going _on_?

"Can I talk to Zelda, please?" Midna asks again.

"NO!" Zelda screeches, whirling back towards her friend with fierce cobalt eyes and such an infuriated expression that my heartbeat quickens. The room goes silent but Midna subtly waves her hand at the rest of the group, and they hesitantly return to their conversations to pretend that everything is fine.

"Why does everybody want to talk to her?" She snarls, her shoulders hunching over but her voice strong. "She's borin' and always followin' the rules and weak. She's so _weak_. I. I am _not_ weak. I am strong. Nobody can ever hurt me. Now, give me some damn whiskey before I run off and steal some."

"We don't _have_ whiskey," Midna replies trying to be calm but her anger is slipping in, making her words short and her voice low. "Why don't you watch the movie with us?"

"I won't do anythin' yah tell me to do," Zelda practically growls.

I step in front of her, my heart pounding when her fierce, unfamiliar cobalt eyes turn to me. My hands are clammy as I sign, "_Please watch with me_."

Surprisingly, she still understands sign language and she instantly asks bitingly, "Why would I want to do that?"

I don't know what I was expecting from her but her response leaves me embarrassed and stunned. I stupidly shrug my shoulders, unable to meet her incredulous gaze.

There's a long moment of silence where I stare at my shoes. I'm waiting for one of them to say something but nobody speaks. I can feel Zelda's gaze burning into me. Goddesses, what is happening?

After a minute or so, Zelda asks quietly with grumbling reluctance, "What movie is it?"

"A comedy," Midna replies.

"Crude humor?"

"Lots."

"Okay, fine, but git me a soda at least."

Zelda saunters over to a plush, floral patterned chair and lazily collapses into it as everybody else gathers around the T.V.. They glance nervously at Zelda but nobody says anything. What do they know that I don't?

Midna's about to go over and join them when I grab her wrist and pull her back. She whirls around to face me with a look that could make most men cripple, but her steely gaze softens when she realizes what I want.

"Look, Link," she whispers so quietly I struggle to hear her. "Zelda's sick just like the rest of us. She's a very nice girl and I hope you won't leave her because her brain's a little messed up."

I nod hurriedly. When I met her at the psychiatric hospital, I wasn't expecting her to be normal.

Midna sighs and glances over her shoulder, but nobody is paying attention to us. Her gaze lingers a little too long on the rest of the group, and I worry that she's going to leave me with just that. She runs a hand through her fiery hair, though and then turns back to me with regret in her crimson eyes.

"Do you know what multiple personality disorder is?" She whispers.

I can feel her watching me as her words sink in. I had heard about it before, mostly from movies, so I don't consider myself an expert. People with the disorder are crazy. They become monsters who murder ruthlessly. They lie to the people around them to get what they want, which is always revenge, but why is Midna saying this…

I look to Zelda. There's no way she could be a monster, not even this personality – if that's the proper term – could be a monster. Right? Right…

I bobble my head in that "yes and no" kind of way while I suddenly become slightly nauseous.

"This here," Midna explains hurriedly as she glances toward Zelda. "I think this is Tetra. She's a fairly harmless personality as long as she's being watched, but she likes to steal, drink, and do anything that gives her an adrenaline rush. When she's not being potentially dangerous, she's kind of fun, but you need to be careful. Treat her like a normal person and she won't do anything brash. Zelda will come back when she's ready. You understand?"

Midna stares at me, demanding some sort of response, and I nod even though I don't understand.

There's a cold, aching feeling settling around my heart, one that I first experienced when I woke up in the hospital and the first words said to me was "Sorry, son, but you're a mute now." It's a numbing yet heart-quickening feeling called fear. Not the typical fear of dying in a bloody car crash or being rejected from college, but more like a dread of what will inevitably follow today. Being mute isn't a danger, but when I first heard the diagnosis I knew my life would change forever. My once peaceful, ignorant existence would become something much more complicated and heavy. I knew then that nothing would be as it once was. How could I return to school and expect to slip back into normalcy, especially with Colin on the brink of death? How can anybody permanently lose their voice and expect to be as outspoken as they once were?

As I look at Zelda now, as I watch her shoulders rise and fall with each breath, I realize that this feeling belongs to her as well. She seems so normal with her cheery smiles and regular clothes, but beneath a beautiful exterior are creatures festering and changing. After just learning what ails her I already know that her life will be frustrating and miserable, and she'll lose friends, maybe even hurt them, maybe even hurt herself. A fear that once existed only for myself grows colder now as I begin to understand what this disorder means for Zelda. I may know little about her multiple personality disorder, but I know enough to understand that she deserves this fear more than I ever did.

"Come on," Midna urges while tugging at me hand, breaking me away from my spiraling thoughts of pessimism. "Treat her like a person. Zelda will be back eventually."

Eventually. How long is eventually?

I follow but my thoughts won't stop forming and overlapping. Of all my inquiries, though, my biggest one is if Zelda is going to be okay.

* * *

_Author's Note_

Okay, so we finally know Zelda's disorder! The reason I gave her Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD's effects, causes, symptoms, etc. will be explained more in the next and following chapters, so you don't have to google it, but go ahead if you want) is because in some games Zelda often has an alter-ego. Well, really just Sheik and Tetra come to mind, but Zelda will have more alters than just those two in this story. You'll see all her other sides in future chapters. :)

I've done a lot of research on MPD (which is actually now called Dissociative Identity Disorder) and I even watched a couple of case studies on youtube, but I am no way an expert on the disease. MPD is a complex disorder that is rather unclear in what it consists of, so information about it is rarely concrete. I will try to be as realistic as possible with Zelda's situation, though please forgive me if there are any flaws in my portrayal.

This chapter and the next one were supposed to be one chapter, but I had to split it up because I got a little carried away with the party scene, so that's why the ending is a bit choppy.

Ugh, my AN's are always so long. Sorry. Anyway, thank you so much **Shadowninja1011, Kamil the Awesome, Generala, AngelicParadox91, Thearux, Canada Cowboy, Rawr I'm a Toaster, Epicocity, A Shadow's Lament, Oblivion Star Seeker, loveandzelink, PotterAllTheWay64, ScootJLM24, **and** Bleachshowlover1 **for your wonderful reviews as always! I am loving the great feedback and I hope to continue hearing it. You guys are awesome! Thank you so much!

I hope you enjoyed,

~~Wave~~


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five – Stems from Childhood

March 20th, 2013

* * *

I know I should be paying more attention in history class, especially since my grade is steadily dropping, but as soon as the teacher begins his lecture on foreign affairs in the sixteenth century my mind immediately turns to Zelda. How long is her body taken over (or whatever the scientific term is) by a personality? Tetra never left the party, meaning Zelda never returned, but is she back to normal now? It's been three days. Surely she's normal again…that is if you can ever been normal when you have multiple personality disorder.

"Link?"

I know I shouldn't, but I can't help but feel that Zelda is so much different now. She was so incredibly ordinary yet extraordinary all at once. She was intelligent and sweet and kind and witty –

"Link?"

– _is_ intelligent and sweet and kind and witty. Present tense, come on. She's still the same person she was before, yet she feels…tainted.

"Link? Can you hear me?"

I hate myself for thinking this way. How can I be angry with people for judging me for my muteness when I am terrified of Zelda because she has MPD? Her disorder shouldn't change anything, yet it seems to change everything. I can't think of her without thinking about all the traumatic history Zelda must have.

"Are you ignoring me?"

I regret researching it now. Reading about how MPD stems from childhood trauma and abuse, watching videos of people with MPD switching into personalities, and listening to stories of personalities trying to kill their "host" made my skin crawl.

Correction: _makes_ my skin crawl.

"Link?"

I won't let her disorder prevent me from spending time with her, especially after Midna asked me not to abandon her, but I can't help being scared for both my own and her well being.

"Seriously?"

She is alluring in the way a lightning storm is alluring; I know going near her is dangerous and I will never be able predict what she'll do next, but her vibrancy and strength is so impressive that the inevitable calamity that trails behind her seems insignificant compared to her glory.

"Goddesses, Link…!"

I wish I were the kind of person who admired lightning storms, who would lazily sit on a porch with a bottle of soda and watch the sky ignite in an electric flash of blue like they're watching a soccer match on T.V., but I'm not. I'm the kind of person who sits inside my room praying that the power won't go out so I'm not stuck in the dark.

"Link!"

Something jabs into my side and my head snaps up. I blink a couple times, clearing my dazed eyes, and see Fledge standing in front of me with a frustrated frown stretching his baby-like face. With a quick glance around the classroom, I realize everybody else is gone. I suppose it's a miracle the teacher never addressed me for zoning out in his class, but as of late I've been given a lot of slack from sympathetic teachers.

"Come on," Fledge grumbles, but his high-pitch voice makes it sounds more like an angry mumble. "We've got to go to the pep rally."

We both frown at this fact, and though we aren't that close we still know how much the other despises pep rallies. Neither of us enjoy sitting on uncomfortable plastic benches, surrounded by screaming idiots, and listening to cheerleaders shout about school spirit. Granted, I used to like them back when I had a social life and got to participate in the games. Now it sounds like Hell.

Unfortunately, skipping the pep rally is a risky option. Nowadays a student can't go anywhere without signing something, so if a teacher catches us anywhere but where we're supposed to be, we'll be losing our next to weekends to detention.

Sighing, I swing my backpack over my shoulder and follow Fledge out into the busy hallway. As we merge with the crowd of students I make sure that my jacket's collar is flipped up in a weak attempt to hide the scar on my neck. The only way to completely conceal it would be to wear turtlenecks, but that's crossing a line for me.

Fledge and I stay close to the wall while we walk down the congested hallway, and as we weave around groups of people I wish that the kids from group therapy were here. While Zelda was busy not being Zelda, I got a chance to know everybody else a bit better, and, to put it simply, they're awesome. The way they joke about their various problems and laugh together while hating most of the world is oddly comforting. When I was with them I felt _safe_. Nobody cared that I'm mute or almost killed the most innocent kid in school or have nightmares every night or don't eat for a whole day because my throat feels raw or because I'm too depressed. I haven't felt that safe in a long time, even before the accident, but my optimistic thoughts derail when I start to think of Zelda. How is she faring now? Should I text her –

I bump into a freshman girl and she stumbles forward. Spinning around, she opens her mouth to yell at me, but then her eyes settle on my scar. Her face instantly transforms into a strained, awkward smile. She mumbles a weak apology before chasing after her friends a few meters ahead.

"You're really out of it today," Fledge comments with a hint of worry in his permanently whiny voice. After two weeks of sitting with each other at lunch and in most of my classes I should be used to his high-pitched voice and constant sniffling, but we don't interact much. He occasionally tries to start a conversation and I consistently ignore him simply because I never have a desire to try to communicate in school. Something about the loudness of the other students, the judgmental glances, and gloomy atmosphere makes me more antisocial than usual.

The once distant roar of cheers and laughter swells when we enter the gymnasium. There's some pop music playing in the background, but it cannot compete with the yells and chatter of the students as they march up the bleachers and push their way into seats. The school marching band is in the corner warming up their instruments, and by "warming up" I mean they all play different, obnoxious tunes as loud as possible. Around me kids are smiling and calling to their friends, and even those who lack school spirit are pleased to get out of class.

The whole event gives me a headache.

Being the last ones into the gym, Fledge and I reluctantly trudge up the bleachers to the top corner, which would be an ideal area if Talo and the rest of the soccer team weren't already up there. I consider turning back and forcing my way into some front row seats, but Assistant Coach Ingo practically shoves Fledge and I into the remaining seats. My stomach drops with dread as we plop down a couple of rows in front of them, and I glance back to see if they notice us. Talo's talking urgently with his brother, Malo, Mido and Grog are arguing over something, and Ralph is flirting with….

Aryll.

What?

I do a double take. Round face, blonde hair in long pigtails, tanned skin…yep, that's Aryll, but…

What?

Why is she with them? She's not even looking at Ralph. He's breathing down her neck but she just stares straight ahead, her tan face constructed into a mask of indifference. Her arms are wrapped around her blue backpack and her elbows are pressed to her sides as if she's trying her hardest to avoid touching anybody. Ralph leans in close to whisper into her ear, making me want to punch him in the face and vomit at the same time. Her mask slips then and I think she's about to cry…so then why is she sitting with them? She only knows them through Colin, but they were never that nice to him anyway. Is this supposed to be some defiant action aimed to frustrate me?

"CLASS OF 2013 LET ME HEAR YOU SCREEEEAAAMM!"

The pep rally has officially begun and I quickly turn my head back to the floor so Talo or anybody else won't catch me staring. Groose, the captain of the football team who also has the most ostentatious hairstyle I've ever seen, is parading around on the court and shouting into the microphone while flapping his arms, calling for more noise. The crowd of teenagers responds by standing up, all of them screaming and attempting to replicate the sound of a Phoenix's call (our mascot), which is, of course, very painful for the ears.

In a crowd of overly enthusiastic students who are jumping and dancing wildly, Fledge and I are the only ones who remain sitting. We look to each other and our hatred for the event is blatantly obvious in our unimpressed gazes and slight frowns. It's almost comical, I suppose, how spirited everybody can be while we want to punch them all in the face.

And then Fledge, who is probably thinking along the same lines as I am, releases a small giggle that gets lost in the roar of noise. I watch him with confusion for a second before I grin, too, and if I could laugh I would. His wide grin makes the puppy fat in his face more prominent, but it's a relief to see such a usually solemn and frightened boy actually giggle in the face of something so annoying. I hope the yearbook photographer gets a picture of us looking glum in a sea of pep, yet I also hope that he gets a picture of the school's outcasts sharing a private, odd moment of laughter.

After ten minutes of the ruckus and Fledge's eye rolls, Principal Renado calls for the crowd to settle. Everybody admires him for his patience and compassion, but more likely because he's a Native Kakarikian and thus has long black dreadlocks and woven tribal jewelry that stand out against his suits. With a wave of his wand and a gentle smile he settles the crowd and they sit back down.

As Principal Renado speaks eloquently about how excited he is for this year and how proud he is and blah blah blah, I can't help but wonder again what it'd be like if the group therapy kids went to school with me. I wish Makar were here to joke about his Tourette's and how nobody swears like he does, or for Midna to rip Talo's arrogant smirk off his face with her brutally honest words. I wish Kafei and Anju could be here just to make me feel normal with their typical couple antics, and of course I wish Zelda were here. Some of them, including Zelda, have private tutors or take online classes, and those who do go to school (Kafei, Anju, Midna, Makar, Mill) don't go to this crummy public school. I wonder if they also despise their pep rallies, too.

Somebody taps me on the shoulder, and though I'd love to ignore them, I politely turn to see some girl I've never met before. With a slightly irritated expression, she shoves a folded piece of paper into my hands.

Fledge's small mouth turns into a frown and he releases a disappointed sigh as if he were expecting this all day. Although I know I'm going to hate its contents, I unfold the paper.

The word "FAGS" is written in massive letters above a terribly done drawing of what's supposed to Fledge and me having sex. At least that's what I think it is. The proportions are completely inaccurate.

Fledge makes some weird sound that's a mix between a whimper and a sigh. Out of the corner of my eye I can see his face turning bright red, but the drawing has little effect on me. Ever since I sat with Fledge the third day of school I've been called gay many times, so this is nothing new.

I look to Fledge and force a smile while rolling my eyes, as if to say, _Ignorant bastard will be ignorant bastards_. He still looks a bit squeamish, but at least he smiles in return.

Though I haven't been listening to what Principal Renado, I can tell by the sudden, tense silence that his speech has turned somber. The people around me seem to be frozen yet I feel as if all their gazes are burning into me. Before I can even process what Renado is saying my stomach has twisted with dread and the room is ten degrees warmer. Somehow, I know what he's talking about.

"…He has always been an important part of community," Renado states in his strong yet gentle baritone voice. "He's diligent, compassionate, and a wonderful friend and student. I am certain that all have you have been praying for his recovery just as much as I have, and to help him and his family the Helping Hand club has recently begun collecting money to pay for the medical bills. Please aid your fellow student and keep him in your thoughts."

Renado bows his head and a heavy silence fills the room. The scar on my neck feels so much thicker now, and when I swallow I feel like it's splitting at the seams. Why is everybody looking at me? No, no. Nobody's _really_ looking at me, but I know they're thinking about me. How can they think of innocent Colin and not think of his attacker? Well, accidental attacker. I didn't mean to…I don't think.

My phone vibrates loudly against my leg and this time people do glare at me, pissed that I'd disrupt the sacred silence with such an obnoxious sound. Of course the only time anybody hears me is when silence is required.

I flip my phone open and my heart drops when I see I have a text from an unknown number. Even though I know the contents will be anything but good, I open it.

**Murderer.**

My body doesn't crumple like it did the first time I received such a text. Instead, I snap my phone close and put it in my pocket.

It vibrates again.

More glares.

I glance down and, unfortunately, my text inbox is still open so I don't even get choose whether or not I want to read it, it just opens on its own.

**Murderer.**

And another one.

**Murderer**.

And another.

**Murderer.**

**Murderer.**

**Murderer.**

**Murderer.**

**Murderer.**

Now the people who are texting me aren't even trying to hide their identity, because I receive texts from Talo, Mido, Grog, Ralph, and…

Aryll.

With my phone still vibrating, I snap my head around and our eyes instantly lock. Her bottom lip trembles just a bit and her cobalt eyes are blurry with welling tears. Beside her, Talo is furiously typing on her phone with a malicious sneer across his face while my phone continues to vibrate. She glances to him but makes no move to stop him from sending me more messages. When she looks back to me her shoulders slump and she stares at her hands that are curled together in her lap.

"Turn that off," somebody whispers angrily from my left.

My phone buzzes five more times before she risks looking up, and when our eyes lock this time neither of us flinch. Her cheeks are tinted red but her body is still as if she's carved from stone, as if she really could care less what Talo and the others say to me. After all, she wouldn't let them call me a murderer if she didn't agree.

"_You shouldn't have hit 'im, Aryll," I sighed as we walked down the dirt path to town. "Grandma's gonna be mad."_

"_So?" she replied petulantly while jumping across small rocks as seven-year-olds like to do. "Talo's stupid."_

"_Don't say stupid," I corrected patiently._

"_You say stupid all the time!" She whined._

_Snapping off a large leaf from a low branch, I said with pride, "That's because I'm older. When you're older you get to say whateva you want."_

"_You're older by two years," she reminded with a jab to my side._

"_So?" I responded, purposely echoing her earlier response._

"_So?" she repeated with great exasperation. "So that doesn't count!"_

"_You don't make sense!"_

"_Neither do you!" she snapped but there was little hostility behind her words. "Why you get mad at me for calling Talo stupid when he called you stupid first? I was defending you!"_

"_You don't need to defend me," I told her while plucking the large leaf apart, letting the discarded bits float behind us._

"_Yeah I do," she said definitely and walked purposely beside me. "Siblings look out for each other, and I'll always protect you, big brother!"_

_I wanted to tell her that I should be protecting her, but her wide, gap-toothed grin and determined blue eyes prevented me from correcting her. She held her head high and walked with purpose over the uneven terrain. I knew then she was going to be a strong woman one day._

My phone buzzes again.

The band begins to play the school's fight song, breaking the tense silence, but we continue to stare at each other as everybody around us stands up and cheers. Even Talo and the rest of them are on their feet now and have already forgotten their previous task, but I have a feeling I won't forget this for a long time.

And suddenly my hatred for this fucking event explodes. Why the hell does everybody have to be so loud? Do they have to scream until their throats split in two or blow into their instruments until their lungs crumble like paper? Why do we have to jump up and down until our knees melt just because the football team is parading around like sweaty, ugly peacocks? Is this what high school is all about? Applauding the dumb, materialistic parts of our society that somebody else created in the first place? Why would anybody put so much joy into something that means nothing? If I regained my voice, if Zelda's personalities were finally controlled, or if Colin awoke…now _those_ would be reasons to release the overly enthusiastic band kids and eruption of noise. Not this. Not this.

I barely notice Fledge tugging on my sleeve as I push my way through the jostling crowd and to the isle. How can they be this loud? I can't even hear myself think of all the ways I could curse them as I trample down the bleachers and march along the perimeter of the gym. Coach Simmons approaches me but I swat his gentle hand away. I'll take the detentions any day over this display of…whatever it is.

It isn't until I've been briskly walking down the sidewalk for five minutes that I realize what a miracle it is nobody tackled me when I left the school. Leaving school without a parent's permission and not receiving immediate punishment is unheard of. Sure I'll be destroyed when I return, but for now all I want to do is walk until my body deflates from exhaustion.

And I do. I walk past Grandma's bakery where I used to go to everyday after school, I walk past the movie theater where I had my first kiss, and I walk past Telma's restaurant where Zelda gave me her phone number.

I continue to go down random streets for another half hour, but the pain isn't lessening. My brain feels like somebody screwed my skull on too tight and my throat is so raw it must be filled with hot embers. I can feel my blood pulsing through my veins, alive with fury and confusion.

"_Why'd you come home early?"_

"_Got in a fight…"_

"_With?"_

"_Ralph. He says you wet the bed."_

"_What'd you do to him?"_

"_Beat 'im, of course!"_

"_Looks like he beat you."_

"_This? Oh, it's nothing. I nearly killed him!"_

"_You can't keep fighting my battles, Aryll."_

"_But I'm good at fighting, Big Brother! In fact, Imma gonna be a boxer one day! Then nobody will be picking on us – I mean, you."_

I stop in the middle of the sidewalk. The world tilts to the side then back the other way. My head is throbbing.

"_When are you going to realize I don't need protection?"_

Shapes and colors blur together. I become weightless.

"_I'll always protect you."_

I'm not aware that my body has turned limp until I crash into something hard. My hands slam into the brick wall to try to support myself, my nails desperately scrapping into the solid material as my face is pressed up against the rough, bumpy texture.

"_Big Brother."_

I stumble a few steps back before my sight clears and the world stops swimming beneath me. I take deep breaths. Control, control…but now all I can see is Aryll's face when we were little, so innocent and curious. Her cobalt eyes are soft like a cloudless day and she grins at me, proudly showing off her missing teeth.

"_Big Brother_."

I haven't heard her call me that in months. I can't even pinpoint the last time she said it.

Is this what betrayal feels like? Or is this disappointment? Or loneliness? Is this what Aryll feels like? What Grandma feels like? What Colin feels like? Does everybody feel like this? Are we all hiding it?

Oh goddesses, I need help.

With shaky hands, I pull my phone out and ignore the slew of texts I received from Aryll and other people. I can barely see as I type a message to Zelda without a second though, as if this is as natural as breathing.

**Please. I need help. Are you busy?**

I hold my phone open in front of me while leaning against the wall. With a deep breath, I can feel the pounding in my brain lessen into just a heavy weight as my rage quickly transforms into a consuming depression and self-pity. I am really not in the mood to discuss my problems, but I know I need help and Zelda…well, she seems like a good choice.

Thankfully, she responds fairly quickly,

**Yes. What's wrong? - ZH**

**Can you meet me at Oasis Park?**

I glance down the road to said park, which is only about a block away. I can make it there without fainting, right?

**I'm on my way. - ZH**

* * *

Sitting on lush green grass, I lean against the largest of the Deku trees and stare out at the small pond in front of me. The tree has leaves as big as my face and branches as thick as Groose that all the kids in the neighborhood used to climb over. Once about ten years back Aryll and I had reached the top of it. We spread our arms to the side like birds and laughed into the wind because nobody else had ever been that high. We were an unstoppable pair. Colin, on the other hand, never made it up past the first couple of branches. Everybody made fun of him for being scared of heights, even me.

"Link…" somebody whispers, and for a second I think I'm imagining the voice, but when I look up Zelda is standing in front of me. She's wearing just jeans and a t-shirt, and the part of my mind that isn't focused on Aryll or Colin hopes she's not cold. Her blonde hair is tousled like she just got out of bed, but, of course, it still looks great, and the sunlight makes her skin golden.

I, on the other hand, must look miserable because her lips part in a breathless way and her eyebrows knit together to form an upside down V. After staring at me for a mere second she says my name again – says it in the way Grandma did when she first heard about my muteness – and then rushes to my side. She sits beside me while grabbing onto my arm, and our shoulders press together as she looks at me with imploring blue eyes.

"What happened?" She asks while a breeze makes strands of her long blonde hair float around her face, but that just reminds me of Colin and how his blond hair fanned around his dying face, crimson mixing with the color of wheat fields…

"What happened?" she asks again, but with a bit more control in her voice.

I tell myself not to think about Colin while my shaky hands pull my phone out from my pocket and flip it open to the text inbox. I give it to her to look through, hoping it will be sufficient in explaining everything, and then I stare at the placid water of the pond so I don't have to see her expressions.

She's quiet for a long time, which is surprising because I thought for sure she'd be fretting over me immediately saying, "Link! You're not a murderer!" But she's not saying anything…maybe she agrees with them? I wouldn't blame her if she did. I am a murderer (well, attempted murderer), after all, even if it was by accident.

At last Zelda finally says in a soft voice, "You're not a murderer, Link."

But she took too long to respond and I've been thinking about this ever since I woke up in the hospital, so before she even says my name I'm already shaking my head.

"_But I am_," I sign without turning to her, and if I weren't so shaken up I'd be more impressed that she can read my movements from the weird angle.

"No, you just have survivor's guilt," she corrects in a strong yet patient tone. "And I read about what happened to you in the newspaper, so I know that you tried to save him, Link. What murderer would try to save their victim?"

"_He would be awake if it were not for me_," I sign, having to use "awake" instead of "coma" because I don't know the motions for that.

"And he'd be dead if it weren't for you," she replies almost instantly, and a small part of me is impressed by how quickly she keeps up, but a larger part of me is still focused on the memory of Colin's pale, dying face.

I swallow and my throat feels dry like I drank a carton of sand.

"Do you want to go see your therapist?"

I instantly shake my head.

"He can help you, Link," she says almost pleadingly.

I shake my head again.

"Well, you can at least go show these to a teacher," she suggests with a gesture to the phone. "They'll be able to stop this bullying."

I shake my head while keeping my eyes focused on the pond, determined to avoid Zelda's intense, intelligent gaze.

"Link," she whispers yet her voice is still strong. "You _have_ to show them. This…this isn't _right_."

"_Yes it is," _I sign.

"What…" she mumbles and now I'm regretting asking her to come. Why doesn't she understand?

We sit in silence again as I watch a baby duck float across the pond, but it's all alone. There's nobody with him. And it's so quiet. I usually like quiet, but this is an oppressing kind. I don't feel welcome in this kind of silence.

"Tell me about what happened that night," Zelda finally says, her voice sounding so much more welcoming now that she's broken the unnatural stillness, but of course I can't answer her question. If she knew the truth then she'd hate me, and maybe it's cruel of me but I'd rather lie to her than lose her.

"You asked me to help you, Link," She adds with a surprising amount of patience. "I can't help you if you won't let me."

"_I know_," I sign slowly, my limbs feeling like led. "_I am sorry._"

And then my body shudders and I release a shaky breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding. A tear that I've held in for so long builds up in the corner of my eye. I quickly wipe it away but none of the pain disappears.

"I'm not a therapist…" she mumbles weakly, and it's so quiet that I think she might be talking to herself. "I don't know how to help you."

This was a bad idea. Why did I bring Zelda into this mess? Am I really that selfish?

"_I am sorry_," I sign again and her grip on my arm tightens just a bit.

"Don't be," she says in a tender voice. "I get it, it's hard sometimes."

Oh.

_Oh_.

And suddenly I remember everything about Zelda. How could I have completely forgotten about her disorder? How? It had been plaguing me for days, imagining Zelda being at the mercy of her own corrupted mind, and yet when I needed her most the disorder never came to mind. How could I have forgotten? Why did I forget about it?

Without thinking my head snaps towards her and I stare into her bewildered blue eyes. They widen at my stunned expression, and we stare at each other for a couple of seconds, an understanding passing between us. She knows that I know about her disorder. She's waiting for me to ask about it. I'm waiting for her to mention it. Her mouth is open like she's about to say something and my hands are shaking. She doesn't want to talk about it, that's obvious, but she wants to talk about it. I want to talk about. I don't want to. I have so many questions for her, but now I'm scared of finding the answers.

"_Are you…" _I sign slowly. "_O.K.?"_

She immediately releases a deep breath, like that one question has broken down some social barrier that said DO NOT DISCUSS MENTAL ILLNESS, and I can't tell if she looks more at ease or on edge than before.

"Yeah, yeah," she replies almost casually. "It's just a little frustrating to lose control of my mind and not be able to remember where my body has been or what I said to those I care about. Was it Tetra who came out?"

I nod.

"Well, I hope she wasn't too rude to you, but she's generally harmless. I'm lucky she was the one who came out that night."

I desperately want to ask her who could be more dangerous than Tetra, the personality who seemed too eager to drink and drag race and steal, but I also want to respect her privacy.

"_Do you switch often?" _I ask, hoping that I'm not being too intrusive.

She shrugs and picks at the grass. "I would switch a lot when I was younger, but I've been in therapy since I was ten and now I have a bit more control over it. So far my record has been a week without switching, but usually I'll switch three or four times a week."

Zelda opens her mouth but then closes it again, and I find myself holding my breath as I wait for her to speak. She plucks a blade of grass apart and opens and closes her mouth a few more times before speaking again.

"Do you…. I'm not…I'm not crazy," she whispers. "I'm just sick."

Something about her words makes all my self-pity seem so insignificant now and I forget all about the surge of texts. Without thinking I gently place a finger under her chin and turn her face towards me so that she can see me sign. Her eyes are almost pleading, but pleading doesn't sound like the right word. Zelda's strong, that's obvious enough, she just needs a little bit of comfort.

I remove my hand from her chin and sign, "_I know_."

"And you're not sick or crazy either," she adds in a rush with a bit more strength in her voice. "You're just in a tough spot right now."

I nod.

"And you'll get through this. I know you will. You just have to want to get through this, and you will."

I nod again and her face relaxes at my response.

"So," Zelda begins slowly as we both watch a mother duck fly out to the once lonely chick. "Do you think you'll participate in therapy now?"

I know the answer she wants is an absolute "yes!" but I also don't want to lie to her. In the end, I reply honestly,

"_One day._"

She smiles and there's an odd flutter in my chest at her approving look. "One day sounds good. Today, I think we should just relax, but you better promise me you'll tell a teacher about those texts."

I nod once more but I already know I won't follow through on that promise. If I were to do so then Aryll could get into serious trouble, and while she might not want to protect me anymore I still want to protect her.

And so we stay seated against the largest Deku tree with our shoulders pressed against each other's and our hands brushing occasionally when we both pick at the grass. She talks about her dad, how he's wonderfully caring for a politician, and I "talk" about Grandma and her humorous forgetful habits. I listen to her giggle when I tell her stories of the trouble Aryll and I used to cause, like when we snuck into an R-rated film or when we tried to make a pool in our bathroom. She complains about how the only movie she ever snuck into turned out to be some sappy romantic cliché that she found sickeningly sweet and unrealistic, but she does so with a smile and I silently laugh at how annoyed she is to this day that the guy's name was Romeo.

We focus on the dumb, trivial aspects of our lives and the memories, barely scrapping the surface of how dear those are to us. Whenever we begin to stray to anything remotely sad or painful we quickly change the subject to music or to the proper spelling of yay/yea. Occasionally I'll be unable to translate my thoughts through sign language because I don't know the movements for a word, but Zelda either knows the signs I'm looking for or she just knows what I'm trying to say through my expression. She doesn't admit it, but I know she's been practicing her sign language, and that makes me feel oddly warm.

Eventually she has to go because she has therapy in ten minutes, though she makes me promise that we'll do this again sometime. I hold up my pinky finger in response and she cocks her head as an amused smile spreads across her face.

"A pinky promise?" she says with a teasing lilt to her voice. "Those are sacred, Link, you better not break it."

I simply grin at her and I like how I don't have to do anything for her to understand that I never break my promises, especially one I would love to keep.

She wraps her pinky around mine and, rolling her eyes, she adds, "You're such a child," but there's no animosity behind her words.

It's only when she's halfway across the park that I realize I forgot to thank her, but I have a feeling I don't need to say it for her to understand.

* * *

_Author's Note_

Sorry this took a little longer to update. I've been trying to keep my chapters on the short side but I keep getting carried away with other details, and I have finals this week, so it's been busy.

This chapter isn't my best and I'm sorry. Usually stories aren't so hard for me to write but this one's been tough as of late. Sometimes it's hard to stay motivated, but when I see all your wonderful, supportive reviews I get the energy to power through, so thank you so much **ShadowNinja1011, AngelicParadox91, d-saintsation-b, Bleachshowlover1, LeilaEditer, Generala, Rawr I'm a Toaster,** **FairHairedAdventureSeeker, Kamil the Awesome, loveandzelink, A Shadow's Lament, Thearux, , InuWolfie, SkYeLiMiT, RandomPerson, Canada Cowboy, ScooterJLM, HeyHey, Miss Ashlynn, Epicotiy, **and **TheZeldaGamer**! Holy crap, that is a ton of reviews and I loved all of them, and I really appreciate those who have favorited or followed the story or me. It really helps with the motivation!

Ew I'm talking too much. Sorry! Anyway, thanks again!

~~Wave~~

P.S. Despite Link's rant, I don't hate pep rallies. They're a fun way to get out of class, though I do hate the football team.

P.P.S. The next chapter will be posted a bit later than usual because I am going away tomorrow for a quick trip but I won't be bringing my laptop, so I can't start writing till next week. Sorry!


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six (Part I)

Posted on April 19th, 2013

* * *

Weeks pass by quietly. The lush green leaves of summer brighten into lively shades of oranges and yellows, the air becomes crisp with soft, cool breezes, and the days gradually shorten while the nights grow longer. The voices in school become slow and monotone as the excitement for a new year is replaced by fatigue. Whispers about Colin and me are rare now that people have grown bored of that mute kid who almost killed that really sweet yet kind of weird boy. Even the gay jokes are almost nonexistent, partly because I avoid Talo and the soccer team at all costs and partly because few people actually care about Fledge and me.

What really help the weeks harmlessly drift by is Zelda. We have fallen into this routine of meeting up at a local teashop every Tuesday after I've had sign language lessons and she's had therapy, and we meet again every other Saturday at Telma's after group therapy. I like Tuesdays more, though, because it's just us, and while Midna or Kafei or Anju or whoever joins us on Saturday are great, I like being the center of Zelda's attention.

On Tuesdays we usually spend two hours sitting at the corner table, drinking various types of sweet tea, and doing my sign language homework together. I quickly learn that she's much smarter than me but she doesn't gloat about it, and we laugh as I wildly exaggerate the motions (once to the point of accidentally hitting a waitress). We easily get off topic, certain vocabulary words sparking a new conversation or a memory, but we avoid serious topics. I haven't mentioned her disorder and she hasn't brought up the pep rally or anything related to it. So we've got problems? Why bother dwelling on it when we can look like lunatics waving our hands around and laughing?

It's almost a surprise when the day of the Harvest Festival finally arrives. Usually there are many events leading up to the glorious two days off, like the first half of the soccer season, the homecoming dance, and the big football game, but since I never went to any of that rubbish the festival feels out of place. I guess it's just another thing that doesn't really make sense this year.

The school lets everybody out early that day and all the students are smiling because thank goddesses no school for the next two days. Even Fledge is talking more than usual, but I try to refrain from having too much excitement. Dinner with Grandma and Aryll has been more than awkward for the past months. Grandma always talks too much and I'm the only one who ever responds with more than just "fine" or "nothing." Aryll refuses to look at me, thus effectively ignoring me because if she can't see my sign language then she can't "hear" me. It's frustrating, to say the least, and after the first instances in which Grandma scolded her for acting like a child, Aryll skips out on dinner now.

It's safe to say that tonight probably won't be any different. I wonder if she'll even bother showing up.

The day begins decently. I wake up to the sweet smell of cinnamon and pumpkin, and when I trudge down the stairs in a sleepy haze as I do every year, I can hear Grandma singing old songs from her hometown, Outset Island, over a fuzzy recording of a guitar and bongo drums. The living room is even more crowded than usual. Figurines of the goddess Din are scattered amongst our collection of antique clocks, clay bowls, and stacks of worn books. Fake autumn leaves are strung along the rafters and Din's candles (all fake) are placed in a pyramid formation on the coffee table. The decorations, the sounds, and the smells make this crazy year seem almost normal.

"Happy Harvest, chicky!" Grandma calls when I enter the kitchen. Her sunshine grin makes her wrinkles and cheekbones more prominent, but her brown eyes fill with a stereotypical Grandma-warmth, one that reminds me of freshly baked cookies and old songs. Her white hair is pulled back into a tight bun, which translates to "today we are going to cook and eat till you are on the floor in pain." Flour is smeared across the sides of her orange dress where she has wiped her hands repeatedly, and there's even a little bit on her necklace from when she twirls it between her fingers.

I just smile at her and take a seat at the counter, waiting for my tasks for the day as I do every year.

Grandma balances a massive bowl with a strange, creamy concoction in her arms and artfully stirs it as she begins to walk over to me. All the while she is lightly bobbing her head and singing sweetly,

"_Come all ye young lads that follow the green sea_

_To my home stay, and all ye new girls_

_Only need ta listen ta the winds and me,_

'_Cause there was once a man with the blondest curls,_

_Yellower than suns, and up in the tree_

_He sang so well that they all replied with a twirl,"_

Usually Aryll and I sing the next part. At the beginning of the day we'd do it reluctantly and weakly just to spite Grandma, and then at the end of the day we'd sing so loud and bang on all the pans that Grandma would say we were worse than the fishmongers on Market Day.

This year I feel my heart tighten as I try to push back the sadness of being unable to follow tradition. Grandma's smile falters for a moment but she pushes on through the chorus while I tap the beat.

"_Oh my darling, oh my darling, Clementine,_

_So young and true, you were a friend of mine,_

_Oh my darling, oh my darling, Clementine,_

_Just look outside, and see me on your vine_."

There's much more to the song but Grandma stops after that. It's not the same without her grandchildren's voices to match her.

"So it's just you and me for most of the day," she says with a slight strain to her cheerful tone. "Aryll is with Colin and his parents, but she'll be home for dinner."

I try not to imagine what they're doing. Picturing Colin's parents eating a cold, store-bought Harvest meal next to their comatose son just makes me sad. It's cruel how they subject themselves to the painful reminder of how long he's been out. It's almost like they _want_ a lifetime of sadness.

"I hope you have your hands ready," she adds with much more excitement. "Because we'll be cooking till you can't even sign for me to stop cooking!"

I smile and begin slicing the mango and Grandma starts another song, one about a young boy who fights an evil lord to save his sister.

* * *

I'm nervous when Aryll comes home but, surprisingly, everything is almost…pleasant. She wishes a happy Harvest Day to us both, hugs and kisses Grandma, and hums some old Island songs. We all sit at the circular dining room table, which is overly decorated with Harvest theme plates, napkins, and a carved candelabra from Outset. As usual, there is so much food that we can't even see the table and more dishes are sitting in the kitchen. Grandma completes the traditions by switching the island music for the classical guitar styling of Miloš Karadaglić. She dims the lights to allow the candles shine brighter because fire is a symbol of Din, or something like that. Really she's just a fan of mood lighting.

Normalcy almost seems possible, but of course its not. The are tear stains on Aryll's pink cheeks and a wad of tissues in the pocket of her overly large green sweater, the sweater she wears only when she's upset and just wants to eat ice cream and watch terrible romantic comedies. She doesn't hug me as she did Grandma and she doesn't demand we watch the Harvest T.V. specials later tonight. She still doesn't call me Big Brother.

I tell myself it doesn't matter. Normalcy is impossible anyway.

We begin dinner with classic Harvest Day traditions: Grandma says a long prayer to Din, I cut the roasted pig, and we toast to excellent food and a loving family. Grandma then begins chatting with Aryll, because it really is a rarity to see her so complaisant. They talk for a while about the trivial things, and when Aryll mentions that she has to do a health project with Talo I try not to think of the incident at the pep rally. My appetite fades at the memory, but I force food down because there is no way I spent all day cooking food I won't eat.

"And how is the literary magazine going?" Grandma asks eagerly. "Have you written anything for it?"

"Oh, nothing much," which obviously means she's written a ton. "I mostly just organize the layout and try to avoid as many sappy poems as possible."

"Don't you usually publish before Harvest Day?"

"Yeah, but I forgot to bring a copy home for you. Sorry, Grandma," she says with an apologetic smile.

"Oh, that's alright, but you better bring me a copy as soon as possible! I always love your work!"

And finally, after debating if this is a good idea or not, I try to join the conversation. With over exaggerated motions so they will notice me, I sign to Aryll, "_Will you enter the creative writing contest?"_

She looks at me with a polite expression but something's off. Her eyes are a bit too wide with interest and the edges of her mouth twitch to a frown. Aside from "Happy Harvest Day!" and "where are the napkins?," this is the only time we've communicated all day.

"Creative writing contest?" Grandma practically squeals with excitement. "Oh you must enter it! Have you?"

"Oh, I don't know…" she smiles sheepishly, her gaze firmly locked on Grandma. "I haven't had much of a muse lately."

"_You have a lot of time," _I sign. "_I hear the deadline is just before winter break."_

She looks at me again with that odd look. She isn't angry but the interest in her eyes feels forced and her mouth is stuck in a small, tight-lipped smile. Nobody says anything, and the house would be silent if it weren't for the soft twang of the classical guitar playing in the background.

A few more seconds of Miloš Karadaglić-filled silence tick by with her simply staring at me and blinking owlishly, and then she looks at Grandma with that same expression.

Nothing.

The strange expression crumbles into one of defeat.

"Sorry…" she says slowly while turning her gaze back to me. "I didn't understand all of that."

For a moment nobody moves and I think its because of relief. For a while I thought I had done something bad, but I can handle a simple misunderstanding.

"Oh, he said you have lots of time!" Grandma quickly explains with the same relief in her warm brown eyes. "The deadline isn't till winter break!"

"Ah," Aryll replies with a small nod. "Well, hopefully I can write something by then."

"_I always liked your poetry, even though you think your work is bad," _I add while ignoring the nervous fluttering in my gut. "_You think all your work is bad, but I cannot understand why."_

The expression is back again. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Grandma translates cheerfully.

"Link says you are too hard on yourself!"

Aryll smiles politely at me and I try communicating again, except with more exaggerated motions and a slower pace to give her more time to translate.

"_Will you write poetry for the contest?"_

She blinks a couple times before putting on a large smile and saying, "Oh, thank you."

There's an uncomfortable, nervous feeling in the back of my mind but I push it away and repeat my message even slower than before.

Aryll's eyebrows knit together in confusion and her eyes narrow.

"Oh," she finally says but with little joy in her voice. "Okay."

Grandma and I just stare at her, neither of us maintaining our forced smiles anymore.

As slow as possible, I sign each letter of her name. I even do it twice, but she just continues to look at me with wide, miserable blue eyes and a tightlipped frown. Her shoulders droop and she releases a shaky breath.

None of use move, nobody wanting to say what we're all thinking. The feeling in my mind grows and I can't push it back this time.

"Aryll," Grandma says quietly while absentmindedly rubbing away a smudge on the silverware. "Do you… do you know _any_ sign language?"

She glances between us and I find myself holding my breath. Grandma is holding her breath. Even Miloš Karadaglić is holding his breath while the cd player takes its time going to the next disc. All of us are holding our breath because I've been mute for months, so she must have taken the time to learn my main way of communication. She has to have learned it. Grandma has learned it. Zelda, who isn't even family, is more fluent than I am, so Aryll must have at least learned how to sign her own name. Right? But then why is she not saying anything?

"I-I," she stutters while staring at the melting candlewax. "I'm not good at learning languages."

Lies. She's in A.P. Ancient Hylian. That's a class for seniors and she's a junior. Lies.

"Aryll," Grandma says again but with a quiver to her voice. "Why haven't you learned sign language?"

"I haven't had time," she retorts with a quick glance to Grandma before averting her increasingly bitter glare to the candlewax.

"Oh," Grandma replies while trying to force the smile back on her face. "Well…how about we get you a teacher? You and Link can go together if you –"

"No thanks," she interrupts tersely.

My fingers twitch, anxious to ask her why she _really_ hasn't bothered to learn, but then I remember that she won't understand anything I sign, and I can't write it because I don't have a pen.

But I shouldn't _have_ to write it! I know she's torn between Colin and me and I know she hates me, but I never thought she'd loathe me so much that she'd want me to remain mute to her forever.

My chest tightens with a painful, swelling rage.

"Well…" Grandma mumbles uncertainly. "How about I teach you? We can work together – "

I place a hand on Grandma's shoulder to get her attention. Staring steadily at Aryll, I sign,

"_No, Grandma, Aryll wants me to be completely mute. Almost lifeless, as if I were in a coma."_

Grandma's mouth falls open and closes a few times, and I would feel bad if it weren't for this overwhelming feeling in my chest.

"Link…" Grandma practically whimpers but I keep going, satisfied I can sign whatever I want without Aryll knowing what I'm doing.

"_Aryll really loved Colin, but why? Maybe she is pregnant?"_

Not my best insult, but it has the proper effect. Grandma scolds me with a short, aghast yell of "Link!" and Aryll's mouth dips into a sneer.

"Whatever he's telling you is obviously a lie!" Aryll snaps with a glare in my direction.

"_Yes, my bad. She got an abortion!" _I sign wildly, my hands shaking as newfound fury building inside me.

"Stop it!" Grandma shouts, and though its rather weak due to her age there's enough sorrow in her voice that I feel a pang of guilt interrupting my rage. Tears fill her usually happy eyes as she calls desperately, "Both of you, just…stop it."

Aryll bolts up from her chair and stands tall, the candlelight casting deep shadows across her face.

"I don't have to take this," she states proudly and turns to leave.

"Sit down!" Grandma snaps with so much volume that I jump. "What has happened to this family? Why did you two turn on each other?"

"_She is the one who has not learned sign language!" _I sign but nobody notices because Aryll's bitter, strong voice is so much louder than my silent waving.

"Because Link almost killed Colin!"

"_It was an accident!" _I sign desperately but just hearing her say that, hearing her confirm my suspicions, makes me shudder with an overwhelming sadness. She agrees with them. She thinks I'm a murderer.

"Aryll," Grandma says harshly but she's overlooked too.

"Because I _told_ him," she continues rapidly and turns her furious gaze to me, and it takes me a moment to register what she's referring to. "I _told_ you to stop trying to make him like you and your awful friends, but you just _had _to meddle like you always do! You had to be the 'over protective brother' who has my 'best interest' in mind and fuck everything up!"

"Aryll!" Grandma repeats but doesn't even try to say anything more.

With her hands laid flat on the table and her face illuminated orange from the candlelight, Aryll's tone becomes increasingly more heated and fervent as she releases months of pent up emotions.

"Colin was great the way he was!" she cries, a painful desperation slipping into her strangled voice as tears quickly form. "He was different from you idiot soccer players and I loved him for that! Why did you have to try to 'fix' him? Why do you _always _have to try to fix _everything _about my life_? Especially _when yours is so fucked up! Did you ever think that maybe you have it wrong? That you're the one who needs fixing? Because all he wanted was to be accepted by you and the rest of those idiots! He did everything you asked! He worshiped you! And then you killed him! You killed him! You. _Killed. _ Him!"

I can't look at her anymore. I stare at my hands, only to find them shaky and sweaty. Part of me - a very strong part - wants to stand up and shout right back at her, but I obviously can't. I can't even sign! It's all just so frustrating but what the hell can I do?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"He hasn't woken up," she continues, and though the volume of her quivering voice is lower it's much more painful to hear. "He might never wake up, and even if he does he'll probably have too much brain damage to even remember what you did to him."

Aryll pauses to a take a breath, and in that respite I notice that the CD has come to its an end, filling the house with silence.

"And I'm _sorry_, Link," she says as her voice cracks. "Because I know you didn't mean to but, goddesses, Link, I…. If you had just _listened _to me, if you had just stopped thinking about yourself his family wouldn't be celebrating Harvest Day without their only child!"

She slams her hand down on the table, making the silverware cling together and the candlelight flicker. A moment passes where she doesn't say anything, but the silence is filled with her heavy breathing and Grandma's speechlessness speaks volumes.

"And, Link…" she adds quietly in a tremulous whisper. I still can't look at her but I can hear her swallow a lump in her throat and I can just imagine her shoulders shaking with rage. "Link…if Colin doesn't wake up, or if he has even the _tiniest_ bit of brain damage I'll…I'll…"

I'll never talk to you again? I'll hate you for the rest of your life? I'll leave and never return?

But I don't know what she says. Without another word she marches out of the dining area and up the stairs.

If it's even possible the silence is heavier than before. It weighs on my tense shoulders, on my throbbing head, on my hands that grip my knees, and on my chest that is so tight I think my organs are twisting around each other. I take a couple of deep, shaky breaths.

I know she's right. If I hadn't taken him there, if I hadn't convinced him to do it, if I had only listened to Aryll…

Grandma's sniffle breaks my train of thought. Suddenly she's standing and rapidly stacking stuffed bread and dried mango slices onto my plate.

"You better eat up," she says in a failed attempt to sound like her usual motherly and happy self. Her voice is small and raspy and tears continue to leak out of her eyes, but she wipes them all away like she's playing a weird version of Whack-a-Mole. "We can't save all of this. It'll all go bad."

I reach out to stop her trembling hands but she brushes me off.

"We need to pack all this food up," she whispers. "There's…. There are just so many leftovers. We'll never be able to eat them all in time. We can't salvage all this because there are just…just so many leftovers…and…"

Her voice breaks and a tear finally slips out of her eye, slides down her wrinkled cheek, and splashes onto the table.

The tightness in my chest grows stronger. I'm mad at Aryll for making Grandma cry, and I'm mad at myself for being mad at Aryll because she does have a valid point. I know I shouldn't but I can't help feeling betrayed and bitter, though Grandma's fresh wave of tears make those emotions disappear, only to be replaced with an intense regret and sympathy.

Standing up, I gingerly wrap my arms around her and bring her close. She mumbles something about leftovers but then hugs me back, her bony fingers tugging at my shirt.

"We're family…"she whimpers. "We're family."

I place a soft kiss on her bristled, white hair.

We stand there for a while. I want to tell her I'm sorry for ruining everything and that I love her, but all I can do is hug her. She's so tiny and frail and old…it doesn't seem right that she should have to deal with this.

Grandma pulls away and looks at my face with watery brown eyes. She smiles sadly and runs her fingers along the scar on my throat, making me shudder.

"Oh, my little puppy," she whispers and blinks a few tears away. "I miss your voice so much, baby. It was so strong and beautiful…. I just hope you don't leave with it."

I stop breathing for a few seconds. Grandma has never mentioned my voice before.

She steps away from me and pats her dress down in a weak attempt to pretend nothing is wrong. Sniffling, she says a bit stronger this time, "I-I I'll be down in a bit. I've just got to…freshen up."

I miss my voice too.

"Pack the food away if you want," she adds. "Or not. It's…it's not a big deal."

I can't even tell her I love her, because she turns around and walks up the stairs and is thus unable to see me sign the words.

I listen to her trudge up the stairs, each footfall exactly three and a half seconds apart. A door clicks open seven seconds later. A door (likely the same one) closes with a creak two seconds after that. Four more footfalls. Silence.

With a heavy sigh, I collapse back into the chair and think, _fuck_.

* * *

_**Author's Note (warning: it's a long one and in bulleted form to make things concise)**_

1. So first I really do need to say sorry about the huge delay. Basically everything happened ever, so I couldn't even begin writing this till last week. After this update, though, I will return to my two-week schedule. I am really sorry.

2. More importantly, OVER 100 REVIEWS AND IT'S ONLY CHAPTER FIVE WHAAATATATATATATW? Really I am so amazed and I am loving the amount of feedback (no flames!). Maybe 100 reviews ain't a big deal for some people but it is for me, so thank you **Lena Williams, Miss Ashlynn, Rawr I'm a Toaster, LeilaEditer, AngelicParadox91, ShadowNinja101, Generala, ScooterJLM, HeyHey, Hummingbird-95, Kamil the Awesome, Canada Cowboy, A Shadow's Lament, InuWolfie, DestinyPrincess289, FairHairedAdventureSeeker, Bleachshowlover1, BlueFrenchHorn97, Guest, Epicocity, david Davidson, Wolf Runner326, link200r, Linkforever125, KKBatoretto, **and **Fireygummybears **for all reviewing last chapter and thanks to those who follow and/or favorite this story! Really. Wow.

3. This chapter is actually in two parts (as you might notice by the chapter title). I tend to get carried away with stuff so I had to split it up. I also didn't want to spend another two weeks writing the second half and thus making you guys wait even longer for the update, so two parts. Unfortunately, splitting it has made this chapter very angsty. If it hadn't been split then the second part (which is more optimistic) would have alleviated some of the angst, but…oh well.

4. Sorry for the angst.

5. I want to give a special thanks to ANONYMOUS for providing me with incredibly useful and interesting information about mental disorders and therapy. For their privacy they shall remained unnamed, but I really wanted to give a special thanks to this person for helping me out. :)

6. Yes, the Harvest Festival is basically Thanksgiving. I'm an American and I'm not very creative. Whatever.

7. If you haven't noticed, when Link speaks through sign language his dialogue is purposely a little awkward in that I try to word it the way somebody does when they first use a new language, as in you're awkwardly formal and maybe combine things weird. I just wanted to point that out.

8. I wrote that song in the beginning! Yes, I will never become a song writer or poet. Two verses took me half an hour and they suck. LAWL.

9. Aryll is a little out of character this story, in that she's not adorable and kind as she is in the Wind Waker. I took some creative license and made her a bit more unreasonable and unloving. Hopefully you don't hate me for that.

10. I am changing the chapter titles. I hate the current ones, but I don't know what to call them. I might just leave them as "Chapter insert number here." Eeeehh

11. Thanks so much again for all the great feedback and I really can't express my excitement for it! Sorry for the wait but I hope you enjoyed part one of the Harvest Festival (despite the angst)!

~~Wave~~


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven (Part II)

Updated May 12th, 2013

* * *

For the next half hour I sit at the kitchen table and watch the candles' wax drip into the tarnished, golden bases. Piles of uneaten food, untouched glasses, and a heavy silence surround me. Occasionally I hear the creaking of floorboards or a baby's healthy cry from our neighbor's house, but other than that the house is mute. It's oppressive and dull at the same time. Powerful yet empty. Relaxing yet tense. Interesting yet boring.

Another drop of wax slides down the candle and into the base without a sound. Silence, I decide, is fascinatingly complex.

My phone beeps and I flinch in alarm. With a sigh, I flip it open to find that Kafei has posted in the group therapy's text group.

**Anybody else having an abysmal family dinner? – K**

I had forgotten how awful Kafei's home life is. How have his parents ruined his day this time? Insults? Throwing plates and pots again? Maybe poison?

I reply, **My sister disowned me and Grandma is crying so pretty good – L**

His response is almost instant.

**Harvest Day sucks – K**

Usually Kafei applies his vast vocabulary to every sentence he speaks, so his use of the word "suck" makes it almost funny.

**Theres still a ton of food tho so if u want to u can come and eat some. Grandma would be very grateful – L**

**Seriously? Because I would love to leave this house. – K**

Though I don't mind sitting in silence, having some equally miserable company might make things better. Negative plus negative equals positive, right?

**Srsly. 221 Deku Nut Lane – L**

**I'd correct your spelling if I weren't so anxious to get away. – K**

I almost smile. Typical Kafei.

**Dael w/ it boi – L**

**You disgust me. I'll be there in twenty. – K**

I snap my phone shut and continue to sit in silence for the next twenty minutes, staring at the dripping candlewax and debating if I should blow them out. It isn't until I hear knocking at the door that I wonder if I should warn Grandma about Kafei's arrival, but I think she'd rather be alone anyway.

Kafei shows no sign of depression or stress as he stands outside my door with a wide grin. He's dressed in a white button down shirt and khakis, clothes that he was probably forced into, and his long purple hair hangs loosely around his face. The only sign that he's not his usual calm, optimistic self are the slight bags under his crimson eyes, but those are barely noticeable. Then again, he's always been good at keeping up a mask.*

"I saw you through the window," he says casually, and I just know he's forcing the calmness. "Please tell me you haven't been staring pensively into candles all night."

I'm not sure how to respond to that because that's exactly what I've been doing, but his grin just widens. It's a sad smile, though, like maybe he's been doing something similar.

I step aside and he quickly walks in. We wander into the living room where he pauses to take in all the crazy amount of stuff covering our walls and tables. Being the son of the mayor, Kafei obviously lives in luxury, so for the first time ever I feel insecure about my house. It's rotting away in the poorest neighborhood and it's so clearly _Grandma_. I bet his house is a mansion with a different color scheme for each room.

Not sure what else to do, I grab a pad of paper and a pen and sit down at the table. The candles are nearly gone so Kafei flicks on the light and sits across from me.

_So_, I write. _Rough night?_

As if I have just given him permission, his mask instantly falls. He groans and runs a hand through his purple hair, "You can't even imagine."

He's silent for just a moment, but I can tell he wants to talk about it. His crimson eyes remain fixed on the table and they're burning with pent up frustration and bitterness.

"I mean," he begins ineloquently (and Kafei is _always _eloquent). "Every single year this holiday sucks, and all the other holidays suck, because even though they hate each other they want to make me feel happy but I'm never happy with the two of them! How can they not see that? I was _so_ close to spending the weekend with Anju at her aunt's house in Lon Lon, but the only thing my parents have ever agreed on was that I should spend it with family. _Family_. Family doesn't call each other bitch and they don't steal each other's stuff!"

I nod, thinking of how just an hour earlier Grandma was mourning our broken family.

"So the whole day they walk around pretending like they're the most loving couple on Earth and they attack each other through passive-aggressive comments that they think I don't understand, but of course I understand! Do they think I'm an idiot?

"It's just…oh Goddesses, it's all so stupid!" he shouts, looking at me with a bewildered, enraged gaze. "Why are we fighting over who gets the car or whose mother-in-law is worse when there are such worse things out there? Or such great things to be thankful for?"

His voice becomes a bit softer as he goes on, "And whenever I see you guys – you, Zelda, Midna, Anju, Navi, Mill, and Makar – I just think about how dumb this whole feud is, because you guys have real problems. Stupid parents don't feel like real problems."

_Your problems are real, too, _I write, and I wonder if I'm doing this right. If Zelda were here she'd know what to say.

Kafei falters and I think he's going to try to correct me. Instead, he rubs his pale face and sighs,

"It's just…ugh, you know? Just…ugh."

"_Ugh,_" I write and his mouth twitches up in a smile but it's sad. Sad because his family is shattered and because I can't even make the most basic sounds.

"So…" he drawls after a minute or two of rest. "What happened with your family dinner?"

With a sigh, I reply,

_My sister hates me, and it's not the usual sibling hate but an actual hatred. She hasn't learned any sign language._

I underline the word "any."

"Any?" he repeats with wide eyes.

I underline it again.

_Now my grandma is sobbing upstairs and my sister has refused to talk to me._

"Ugh," he grunts and lazily rests his head on his hand.

_Ugh_, I write.

"All I want…all I _need_ is to graduate from high school and go to a college as far away from here," he mumbles while aimlessly rubbing the table. "And you and Anju and Zelda and everybody can come and we'll never have to see anybody ever again. It'll be our own special college. A college for the insane."

_We can major in isolation and self-preservation, _I write.

"And we won't have any sports except for running, because running away is a useful skill."

_And swimming. I hear witches can't cross running water._

"Hm," Kafei hums with a slight grin. "I'll have to try that on my mother."

"Link?" Grandma's small, wary voice sounds from the distance, breaking our companionable silence. Damn, I should've told her Kafei was coming, because now she probably thinks there's an intruder and she just called out my name, forgetting that I can't respond.

I listen to her slowly come down the stairs when she wobbles into the dining room Kafei's mask returns in a second. He's smiling pleasantly and he sits up straight in his chair like the posh gentleman he was raised to be.

Grandma's nose is a little red and her eyes are slightly dazed, but other than that there are no signs she has been crying. I force a polite smile as well and sign,

"_Sorry I did not tell you. This is Kafei. He goes to therapy with me and he needed to be away from his parents. They fight. A lot."_

"Oh," Grandma replies simply, and then the information registers and her mouth falls open. "_Oh_," she repeats with a surge of sympathy. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she says firmly, "Now you stay as long as you like, young man. And please, have some food. We have far too many leftovers."

"Thank you," he replies with a friendly smile. "The food is really delicious."

"You think so?" she asks shyly.

"Oh yes," he answers with genuine fondness, and seeing Grandma smile makes this night a little better. "The cream on the roasted cuccoo is delectable. What's in it?"

"Oh, just some onion, mushrooms, green bell and red bell peppers, and butter, but the combination of condensed soup and butter is what really helps," she replies quickly, the thought of cooking already bringing a light to her eyes. Though Kafei is playing on his manners a bit thick, I appreciate that he's brining her out of her stupor.

Grandma and Kafei continue to discuss cooking, a subject I know very little about, and with each sentence Grandma becomes more relaxed. She sits down in her chair, she refills her cup with cider, she nibbles off of my plate, and soon it's almost like we're back to having a Harvest dinner again. And Kafei is good company. He's polite and knowledgeable about everything. I just hope my grandma is an effective distraction from his home life.

At some point both Kafei's and my phone beeps. We simultaneously pull our cells out to see somebody else has added to the text group.

**Got room for one more? – Z**

My stomach does this odd flutter twist thing where I'm excited that Zelda wants to come over but also sad because something must be wrong.

I look to Grandma and ask, "_Can Zelda come over as well?"_

"Zelda?" Grandma repeats with a rising excitement. "You mean that girl you've been hanging out with so much?"

Oh goddesses, please do not be embarrassing –

Turning to Kafei, a sly grin spreads across her wrinkled face and she adds, "He clearly likes her but he's just oh so shy that he refuses to do anything about it. Maybe you can help get things rolling, if you know what I mean?"

Kafei grins – that bastard – and winks. "I completely understand."

Taking that as a yes, I text, **Ya, come whenever u want – L**

"Zelda has multiple personality disorder, correct?" Grandma says hesitantly in a soft voice, the kind of voice people use when talking about somebody who got knocked up or whose father died or who is now permanently mute after a terrible accident. "Is there anything I should know about? Are there any triggers? Do you think she'll be okay here?"

"Don't worry," Kafei intervenes. "Zelda has pretty good control of her situation for somebody with her disorder. I've only seen her switch to another personality twice, and I've known her for over a year."

"Okay, but you let her know if there is anything I can do to make her more comfortable. I want her to be happy here so that she'll come back more often."

Grandma is positively beaming. I don't know why she gets so excited about her grandchildren's relationships (not that Zelda and I are dating or anything), maybe she just really wants grandchildren. She was the same way with Colin, always getting nervous and excited whenever his name came up. Maybe it's an old person thing? I don't know about that, but blabbing about your grandchildren's embarrassing social lives is _definitely _and old person thing. Grandma then proceeds to tell Kafei about Ilia, a girl I dated freshmen year (which doesn't count as dating because all we did was hold hands and exchange awkward kisses). Occasionally she'll pause to exclaim how excited she is to meet the girl I've been "pining" for, but I can tell the excitement is at least partly forced. She's still hurting after dinner earlier, though I like her method. Pretend it never happened and act happy. Works every time.

When the doorbell buzzes I ignore Grandma's squeal of delight and head to the door. My stomach feels hollow yet full at the same time, and this feeling only increases when I see Zelda standing on my porch. The weak light above her keeps her in the shadows but her golden hair continues to shine as it falls in waves around her shoulders. She's wearing a festive amber dress and tights, so I know she must have been celebrating but it probably ended badly if she left it to come to this pity party. Her cobalt eyes are alight with her usual intelligence, but they're tired and strained too.

"Hey," she says casually with a smile, and it's a little awkward and sad and I realize that the day hasn't been good to her either.

I wave.

"Everything all right?"

I shake my head and sign, "_You_?"

She shakes her head.

I want to ask what happened but it's cold out here and I think all anybody needs right now is some warm food and silly stories from Grandma.

"_Come on in," _I sign. "_Though I must warn you, my house is a dump."_

She smiles and says, "Oh, I'm excited now! You're always complaining about it, and I've been wanting to see it for myself."

We reenter the house and walk into the tiny dining room where Grandma is already rushing towards Zelda with open arms.

"Oh, you must be Zelda!" she greets with more excitement than I've ever seen in her. Kafei looks rather smug in the corner and I glare at him. No doubt he urged my grandmother on that there's something between Zelda and me.

"And you must be Link's grandma," Zelda replies while returning the hug. "It's so nice to meet you."

"Oh, Link has told me so much about you," Grandma says eagerly, and I'm certain it's her life goal to embarrass me. "I have so many questions, but you look hungry! Are you hungry? Please, have a seat and eat as much as you want!"

"Thank you," Zelda says politely and we all sit down at the table. After a few minutes of passing food around and lazy conversation between Zelda and Kafei, Zelda asks Grandma about _Invisible Man_, one of the many books that was lying around our family room. Apparently everybody has read it but me, so they go on a big discussion about the book and how people see others how they want to see them and other deep stuff like that.

Oddly enough, I'm happy just sitting back and listening to them talk, listening to them forget about troubles for a few hours. That's what a festival is all about, after all.

* * *

Grandma yawns for the tenth time and she finally says the words I've been expecting for the past hour,

"Oh, I'm too old to stay up this late. I'll be heading to bed now."

"Ah, goodnight," Kafei and Zelda say in unison with kind smiles and tired voices.

"You two can stay as long as you like," Grandma adds in her stern yet nice voice as she slowly stands up. "You can even stay till morning if you want, just don't be getting into trouble."

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary," Zelda declines politely and I notice Kafei doesn't do the same thing.

"Alright, goodnight everybody, and happy Harvest!" Grandma smiles and kisses my cheek. "I love you, guppy."

"_I love you, too_," I sign and then she shuffles away and we sit in silence for a bit, waiting till her bedroom door closes before any of us move.

"So, Zelda," Kafei starts in a concerned whisper. "What happened?"

Her smile gradually slips from her face and she releases a small sigh as if she saw this coming. She takes a lock of her hair and winds it around her finger, her eyes never leaving her hands, and replies in an exhausted voice, "Nothing terrible. It's just…it's always a bad time of year."

And the silence is back, the oppressive kind that I know should be weightless but I still feel its pressure on my shoulders and heart. It is a silence full of festering emotions and secrets, secrets that need to be released and are pressing to do so. All night it had been hovering above us, but now it has return with the intention to suffocate us.

"_Why_?" I ask.

Zelda hesitates and continues to stare at her working fingers.

"A…" she manages to say before snapping her mouth shut. Her shoulders sag as she releases a shaky breath. Her fingers pause in their work before twirling again with less vigor than before. "You…you know about multiple personality disorder, right?"

She glances up at me but she won't hold my gaze.

I nod.

"You know why it happens…that I was abused as a child and in response to the trauma my brain created different people to protect me from the memories…"

I nod again.

Her hands stop moving now and she turns her eyes to the window. Kafei and I exchange nervous glances.

"When I was six my mother and I were kidnapped around this time of year," she says softly. "I don't remember anything of course, because multiple personality's main purpose is to protect me from remembering any of that, so everything I know is from police reports."

She looks back at her fingers, but they stay still.

"My mom and I were taken a few days before the Harvest Festival and we were missing for a week…well, I was. My mom is still missing. They think she's dead, and they're probably right. My therapist thinks I witnessed her death, which is also probably right."

My stomach twists and all I want to do is reach out and touch her. I want to brush away the hair from her face and the wrinkle above her eyebrow and the frown from her lips and the film of water forming over her eyes, but I'm entranced.

"And sometimes I feel as though it never happened to me," She continues in an increasingly strained voice, as if she's fighting her mind even now. "But then there are those moments where I know that I am close to remembering something. I am so _close_ to seeing his face or saying a name or hearing a sound…only to wake up somewhere else in different clothes on a different day because a personality decided to take over."

Her face looks tight and strained like she's using all of her strength to keep something in, and I realize that's all she's going to tell us. That's…it, but there is so much more to the story. There has to be, yet she shows no signs of elaborating even though I can tell she wants to. She just…won't.

She stares at the candles so intensely that I think they might reignite. Kafei gently rubs her shoulder while I'm too stunned and scared to move. I just watch her compose herself with deep breaths and a staring contest with a candle. I'm surprised she isn't crying, though she's close. I don't know if that should impress me, but it kind of does.

And I never really thought about it before but there is no winning in her situation. She can either let herself be controlled by her mind and remain ignorant to what happened to her and her mother, or regain control but remember the week of trauma. And would remembering be worse than being out of control?

After a while she sits up straighter and rubs her weary face.

"Sorry," she mumbles while running a hand through her hair. "Harvest time is just rough…too many things remind me of the kidnapping so I switch a lot more now than any other time. And my dad's sad, too, so dinner was way too depressing."

"Don't worry, family dinner has sucked for all of us." Kafei says lightly and I'm slightly jealous again at how well he can soothe her.

"Yes, well, I should really get home," she says somewhat reluctantly and slowly stands up. "It's getting late."

"_You sure_?" I ask, maybe a bit too quickly. "_You really can stay here as long as you like_."

"Thanks," she replies with a sad smile. "But my dad needs me. I just needed to get out of the house for a bit."

"Do you mind if I stay though?" Kafei asks hesitantly. "I really, _really_ don't want to go back."

I nod eagerly and then sign to Zelda, "_How are you going home?_"

"I'll just take the bus."

"_It is a dangerous neighborhood to go alone. Allow me to take you home."_

"Oh, you really don't have to – ,"

"_I know_."

She blinks in surprise but I'm already standing up and grabbing my coat. I take a piece of paper and write to Kafei, _I'm taking Zelda home. Feel free to sleep in my bed or on the couch or raid the fridge. Do whatever you want. I'll be back soon._

Kafei smiles and thanks me for my hospitality, but it's really no problem. Soon Zelda and I are out on the street and I already feel much more comfortable being out of the house with the crisp night air filling my lungs and Zelda's presence beside me.

"It's a bit far…" Zelda says uneasily in a soft voice. "But I'd rather walk. Would you mind?"

I shake my head and we begin to walk in companionable silence down the deserted street. Both of our hands are stuffed in out coat pockets but we walk close enough to each other that I notice how the lamp lights make her eyes an oceanic green, the tropical kind that Grandma says can only be found at Outset. Nobody else is on the street and it's eerily quiet, but I like listening to the sounds of our footsteps synching with each other and her gentle breathing in the background.

Walking is a good way to digest the information. I don't even register where we're going because all I can think is was Zelda _that _girl that I saw in the news so long ago? I vaguely remember it, how Grandma cooed in sympathy and then how I changed the channel because the story bored me.

Suddenly Zelda breaks the silence and asks in a cautious whisper, "What happened with your sister?"

For a second I consider brushing her off, but how could I after she told me what happened with her and her mother? Besides, talking – well, _signing _– about it might actually help.

"_At dinner I learned that she does not know any sign language. She cannot even sign her name. We argued and she hates me."_

"She thinks you tried to kill that boy, right?"

I nod, not meeting her eyes.

She hesitates.

"Did you?"

I hadn't realized we had stopped walking till now. We're on a street corner that acts as a threshold between the finer parts of the city and the sketchy, decomposing area I live in. The streetlight is weak and has just enough light to illuminate her and a nearby bench. The rest of the world is in shadows.

Of course I didn't. Didn't I? Did I?"

I shrug and look away.

"Maybe…" Zelda whispers hesitantly. "Maybe it'll help if you tell me what happened? We could try to figure it out, or maybe it'll help you to let it out, you know? Or…or maybe not. It's not really place anyway."

She turns away but before I even process what I'm doing my hand shoots out and my fingers skim her elbow, and it's enough to make her turn around.

I already feel nauseous just thinking about it, but I need to tell her. I want to tell her, and that's a scary feeling.

I sit in the dull, lighted area of the bench.

She sits beside me and I confess.

* * *

The night was dark but alive. So very alive. It was the kind of night that every summer night should be. It sang with the hoots of owls, the chirping of crickets, the rustle of leaves, the skitter of squirrels, the flapping of wings, the sniffs of rabbits, and the crunch of fallen leaves, dirt, and twigs snapping under our heavy footsteps as we trudged through the forest. We marched through the overgrown path, whacking branches out of way, stomping on plants, and frightening any animal for miles. Our voices carried through the trees and rose above the noise. The night was alive but we were more.

"Link…" Colin mumbled from behind me but I didn't stop plowing forward.

"Ignore it," I replied curtly and danced around a mess of thick, formidable roots.

"She seems mad," he argued meekly.

"She's always mad," I answered, failing to keep the irritation out of my voice.

"This is the tenth time she's texted me…"

I rolled my eyes and spun around. Colin, the clumsy mess of lanky limbs he had always been, barely avoided running into me. He looked up at me with wide eyes that were so grey and bright they looked like moons even in the dappled shadows of the trees.

"Look, if you really don't want to do it then just go back, but if you do want to earn their respect and place on the team then stop whining and follow me. We're almost there."

Colin looked to the ground, clearly ashamed, and nodded. I turned around in a huff and continued to lead us. He was a nice kid and all but, goddesses, he was almost as weak and cowardly as Fledge.

We traveled the next twenty minutes in silence, but it was hardly silent. The night was so alive and loud that it made me optimistic. Anything could happen, and when Colin finally did the initiation maybe we could all get on with our lives. Honestly, everybody in the history of Kakariko High School Boy's Soccer has done it, so why was he so scared?

Granted he'd have to do this twice since this was just a practice run, so that could be a bit scary I suppose, but twenty years and not a single mistake. He'd be fine.

My phone vibrated in my pocket but I ignored it. No doubt it had been Aryll calling again. She had an absurd notion that the initiation would ruin her boyfriend by making him into "one of us," but if anything that would be an improvement.

Suddenly the trees thinned out and we were there. We stopped for a moment to admire the scene – well, maybe not admire but let the landscape intimidate us, which in turn won our respect. The pond neared the size of a lake and it was oddly shaped, like a splat of oil on pavement that oozed and flooded the cracks around it. For such a lively night the water was eerily calm, and then I realized the night didn't feel so alive anymore. The sounds were gone and the wind was still. It was like the world had become mute.

To the left of the pond was a rotting wooden tower about four stories tall. It had been constructed a long time ago (as in so-long-nobody-really-knows-when) and was rumored to have been part of the Spirit Tracks, a historic set of train tracks that supposedly suppressed an ancient evil. Years of neglect and abuse from nature made it so rundown that it barely resembled a watchtower but looked more like a mound of discarded wood and nails. Even the water around it was full of wooden parts that had fallen from the structure, but these parts were green with algae or whatever pond scum is called. They were so soaked with water that they curled to such a degree that they looked like massive thorns or a diseased maw.

But that wasn't a concern. Generations of kids have jumped off the tower and avoided the ruins. All you needed was a running start.

We approached the dilapidated ruins in silence. The clouds parted and the moonlight shone like a headlight, making the water an ethereal white and giving the tower a haunted glow. I felt a twinge of uneasiness, and I wasn't even jumping.

Colin's phone chimed with a text alert and I held out my hand.

"You don't want that getting wet," I said after a moment of hesitation on his part, and he placed it in my palm, his skin almost as ashen as his eyes.

We climbed the ladder in silence, strips of wood as thin as eyelashes slipping into our palms and rusty nails scrapping at the soles of our sneakers. I went first and he followed. He always followed.

The tower wasn't as tall as the trees but it was tall enough to make the pond seem far away and the summer air cold. The night didn't seem alive up there. Everything was quiet, and the stillness made anybody who ventured up the tower want to take the quickest way down, even if that way ended in a bone-chilling splash.

"Link…" Colin practically whimpered as he peered over the edge, and I didn't reprimand him because standing up there surrounded by open air and a black sky made even some of the tougher kids stammer in the past. I could only imagine how a boy with a crippling fear of heights managed to remain standing.

"You're gonna have to do it eventually," I replied calmly. "Might as well get past your fears now when they won't tease you about it."

"And you've done it before?" He asked shakily, still staring over the ledge like it'd be the death of him.

"Yep," I answered as casually as I could. "Everybody on varsity has jumped it. The only bad part is how cold the water is."

"But what if I don't make it past all…that?" He asked, referring to the mess of rotting wood and nails down below.

"In the history of Kakariko nobody's got caught up in it, and you definitely won't be the first. All you need is a good running start."

In the distance a house's porch light flickered on and I held back a groan. The owners of the house also owned the pond and they despised trespassers, especially those that jumped.

"Come on, Colin," I urged. "Let's get it over with before they call the cops."

"Link," he whined and I swear he was about to go into tears. "I can't."

"Yes you can," I said without any annoyance this time because I knew he could do it. He just needed to have a bit more courage.

"It's not worth it," he mumbled to himself and it was pitiful, really, watching my sister's boyfriend about to sob over a little bit of height and water.

"Trust me," I whispered. "It is."

Colin took a deep, shuddering breath and squared his shoulders but he still looked like a ten-year-old boy with a fever. The moonlight made his skin milky white and his eyes look like glass. He stepped backwards three steps. Four more deep breathes. He closed his eyes and mumbled something to himself. He leaned forward. He leaned back. His fingers curled and uncurled. His shoulders rolled back. He swallowed once. Twice. He opened his eyes and looked to the empty sky.

Goddesses, how long was this going to take?

Just when I thought he might actually start running towards the edge, a shrill, furious voice called from down below, "Colin! Link!"

Colin's face twisted into one of relief and pain. I, on the other hand, was just pissed.

"Go away, Aryll!" I yelled back down while glaring over the edge.

"He doesn't want to do it!" She retorted hotly. "So why don't you leave him alone and let him do what he wants!"

Goddesses, why was she always butting into things?

"I could say the same for you!" I snapped. "You've got him whipped enough, so at least let him do this!"

"You mean succumb to peer pressure and idiotic hazing rituals?" She shouted with her hands on her hips.

"He might as well! It's not hard!"

"That's not the point! The point is to let him do what he wants!"

"Maybe what he wants is to do an idiotic hazing ritual?"

"Link…" Colin whimpered beside me, making me miss Aryll's comeback. "I don't want to."

But I was annoyed then because Colin not wanting to jump meant Aryll would win and because he was being stupid. All he had to do was jump into some water. Everybody's done it. Why then did he have to be such a coward and refuse?

"It'll be fine, Colin," I groaned. "Honestly. You. Will. Be. Fine. So go jump already and let's get home before they call the cops."

"You promise?"

Somehow I refrained from rolling my eyes. He definitely needed this ritual if he ever wanted even a tiny bit of respect from the rest of the team.

"I promise."

Colin released a deep breath before slipping off his shoes and taking his place a few feet away from the end of the tower. He bent his legs and curled his toes. The world was still. He breathed in, and ran.

It was stupid, really. It had rained so much earlier in the day – six thirty to seven fifteen to be exact, and it was one of the crazy summer showers that happen so fast most people don't even notice them. All the water should have evaporated by then, but the wood was old and worn from constant exposure to nature's wrath and somehow the water had remained all day, probably because of some moss or algae. It was stupid because it was just a film, a sliver, a drop of wetness right at the edge of the tower, but it was enough to make Colin's feet slide back too far and his body tumble too forward. It was enough to make him yelp and flail and fall. And I wanted his body to stop – so badly to just _stop_ – but it wouldn't. It plummeted at an alarming speed right into the rotting, wooden thorns and the black water that swallowed him up with an anticlimactic _sploosh_.

I don't remember exactly what happened. Aryll's cracking scream broke my shock and I remember debating on taking the time to go down the ladder or plunging right in after, but I chose the second. I'm not sure why I did because Colin's horrible outcome should have made me falter, but I made it down into the water just fine, which only proved how unlucky he was.

I remember the water being cold but not as cold as it should've been, and the night was black. It was blacker than black because the water reflected the blackness of the sky and the air was anything but alive. The air was black, which I know doesn't make sense but it just was.

My memory of how I got to Colin is just a haze – a haze of black, actually – but I will never forget what I saw when I found him. The moonlight seeped through the waves and illuminated his body and for a second I truly thought that he must have been a ghost, but when I looked closer I realized he was human because there was so much blood. A piece of wood had somehow fallen and trapped Colin's legs and he just floated there, his arms lazily bobbing up and down and his hair swaying with the seaweed, but the blood was what I remember most. It was soft a maroon, like the frays of a ribbon floating away in the breeze, and it was everywhere. It caressed his ashen face and swam between his blond locks that looked grey in the moonlight. It surged and blossomed constantly, new flowers of blood forming whenever it pleased.

For some reason I remember thinking how odd it was that Colin had jumped in with all his clothes on, and how odd it was that he chose to wear all white.

I swept forward and tugged at the bar of wood that trapped his legs. It wouldn't budge. I tugged and tugged and thrashed and tugged and tugged until it finally snapped, but snapping it was like disrupting an entire machine. All the other thorns – wooden and metal and infected and sharp – jerked with it. A corroded, silver rod, one that I now believe to have been part of the train tracks, slipped out of the darkness and cut into my throat.

And this part I really don't remember, which might be a blessing. All I remember is that I thought I was burning and that my body was going to spill out from the gash on my neck. Then I remember screams and lights and manly shouts and hands grabbing me and more lights and then blackness. Lots and lots of blackness.

A few days later I woke up, and the world was silent.

* * *

* _Then again, he's always been good at keeping up a mask._ Which is funny because in Majora's Mask Kafei wears a mask to hide his identity!**

**Sorry I'm really proud of that.

* * *

Author's Note

I am so tired that I don't even feel like rambling for an author's note, so I'm just gonna say quickly that both Zelda's and Link's backstory will be elaborated on in future chapters. Originally all of Zelda's backstory was in this chapter, but it was, like, too much sad backstory for one chapter and it was choppy and awkward and it still is kind of choppy and awkward so next chapter that can all come out. Also I am not terribly proud of this chapter, so my apologies.

Ew, I'm so tired, but not tired enough to ignore all the wonderful feedback I've been getting! Loving it! So thank you **LeilaEditer, ShadowNinja1011, HeyHey, A Shadow's Lament, Angelic Paradox91, sslamajama97, WolfRunner326, Linkforever125, KKBatoretto, Canada Cowboy, BlueFrenchHorn97, Bleachshowlover1, david davidson, Kamil the Awesome, FairHairedAdventureSeeker, Oblvion Star Seeker, Hummingbird-95, Sun-Wind Dragon, Generala, link200r, Epicocity, KaChan84, **and** burning book **for all your awesome reviews! Gracias!

So sleepy and I don't know what I'm saying. I hope you liked it!

~~Wave~~


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

June 8th, 2013

* * *

By the time I finish telling my story it's late. I'm not sure how late, but it's late enough for the traffic lights to blink reds and yellows and for the windows to go dark. The only light on the street is the lamp hovering above us, but it's a pathetically dull glow and it flickers occasionally. Other than that it's complete darkness.

Beside me Zelda is silent. She never said a word while I confessed everything, and now I can't bear to look at her. Is this the night I lose my closest friend?

We remain sitting on that bench for a long time. The night is cold with autumn freshness and my breath spills into the air in a misty cloud. I watch the stop light at the end of the street continuously blink a dull yellow color. Yellow. Black. Caution. Nothing.

"I understand why Aryll's upset with you," Zelda whispers in a somber voice that's as heavy as the previous silence. She speaks slowly and takes deep breaths between each statement, leaving me anxiously waiting for her next words. "She told you not to make him do it, and then she watched both of you almost lose your lives. That must have been terrifying."

She shifts around next to me but I still don't look at her.

"Does she dream about that?" she muses. "Did she try to pull you two out of the water? Did she cry?"

Zelda doesn't sound angry or accusing, but her words make me feel ashamed for putting my sister in that situation and for never even considering what she felt that night. There was so much blood in the water that I can only imagine how much more there'd be when we were pulled on land. All I know is that the police came at request of the people who owned the pond, and they were the ones who pulled us out. But did Aryll try? Was she too scared? I wouldn't blame her for being too scared.

Nothing makes sense. My head hurts.

"Did you think you were helping him by making him jump?" she asks with genuine curiosity, and though her words aren't reproving I feel the beginnings of a sob building up in my throat. "Would jumping really have made his life better?"

Obviously not. Well, there was a chance of his social status improving, but being in a coma for months on end was not worth it. Is anything worth it? Who would even want to be like me?

I cradle my face in my hands and scream in my mind. I was an ass back then, an utter ass with too much pride and too many false friendships, an ass who thought everybody would love to have my life. Who would ever look up to me? Or to the other soccer kids? Why was I so stupid, so blind, as to what was important?

I feel as though there's a scream that's been building up inside of me for months. There are so many apologies trapped in my throat and rage filled speeches festering in my heart, and all I want to do is release it all in one loud, concussive scream, but all of my words have been killed. When I silenced Colin's voice I silenced my own, and if that's not karma I don't know what is.

Zelda's been quiet for too long and my eyes are aching with growing tears. I hate silence. Why does she have to be silent?

But she breaks it – thank goddesses – and though her voice is soft and unsteady it fills my ears.

"You're different, though," she mumbles. "You're not that boy anymore."

That's old news. I feel like I was never that boy. How could I have ever thought like that? How could I have been so shallow? Yet that was me, and that's disgusting.

"You've made mistakes, Link, but we all have. What's important is whether or not you want to fix them."

I nod. Goddesses, of course I do.

My breath hitches when her fingers gently brush my shoulders in a comforting gesture. Her touch is light and leaves my skin tingling.

"You won't be able to make things back to the way they were," she says slowly yet with the relaxed, patient tone that every therapist craves for. "But you can try to fix the damage you've caused…. Have you apologized to Colin?"

I can't help but turn and stare at her. Apologize? That sounds so simple and easy and trivial…yet why haven't I done it?

Oh right, he's in a coma.

"_I cannot," _I sign. "_He's asleep._"

"You could write a letter, or you could apologize to his parents. That would be the best thing to do actually."

That thought leaves me numb with fear.

I shake my head.

"Why not?" she asks gently.

"_What would you do if you saw the boy who nearly killed your son? What would you do if you saw your mother's killer?"_

I instantly regret signing that. For a moment I stare at her and she stares back, unmoving and shocked, but she regains her composure surprisingly fast.

"They need to hear it and you need to say it," she says firmly. "You don't have to do it right now, but you know you have to at some point, and I'd say the sooner the better."

"_You are right," _I sign without looking at her, and then add, "_I am sorry._"

"It's…fine," she mumbles and I know it's not fine but for now I'll just pretend it is.

I look away in shame. More bedroom lights switch off.

"Tell you what," she starts again with a bit more boldness to her voice. "I promise you that I'll help you, and in return you promise you'll help me."

I look at her this time, and her cobalt eyes are alight with hope and a small smile tugs at her lips.

"_How could I help you?"_

Because even though I wish I could, there is no way I am capable to heal multiple personality disorder.

Her smile suddenly becomes shy and she does this cute, tiny shrug and glances to the side. "By being my friend…I know it sounds dumb, but I don't have that many friends. The whole going to school online and spending all day at therapy, not to mention the tendency to switch personalities, kind of turns people away."

She blushes and looks down at her hands, a lock of blonde hair slipping from behind her ear to dangle in front of her face.

I'm stunned for a moment, because I never thought about somebody as compassionate and intelligent as Zelda to be lonely, but of course she is. Have I always been this oblivious?

She's not looking at me, so I reach out and place my hand over hers. Maybe it's not how friends usually act, but we're not normal and I have a feeling a lot of what we do is going to be like that.

Her smile is genuine and her eyes scrunch up with how big it is. It's amazing how happy I can make her by just promising to be her friend (which is no burden at all), but sad at the same time. A girl shouldn't be this excited to have a friend who's mute and depressed.

"Come on," she says quietly. "I need to get home."

We get off the bench and begin walking home in companionable silence, and her hand never leaves mine. She stays close to my side and I can occasionally feel her breath tickling my neck. We're just friends who are walking alone on a cold night in the city, so holding hands is acceptable. Right? Right.

After ten or so minutes of walking we stop outside an iron fence a block away from downtown. The darkness hides her house in shadows, but even with all the thick foliage in the way I can tell she's living in luxury. Pure ivory paint, golden doorknobs, working lights, red drapes hiding the inside…. My house must have looked like a porta-potty compared to this.

Her hand slips away from mine so she can open the gate, but before she takes a step she hesitates and looks at me nervously.

"Do you…" she says too quietly before clearing her throat and trying again. "Do you want to come over tomorrow? To just, you know, hang out and…stuff?"

I grin and she smiles back. I like that we don't need words to understand each other.

"Cool. I'll…text you then?" She says uncertainly and I nod.

"Right, okay. Well, bye then. See you tomorrow!"

She waves and quickly rushes to the front door. Before slipping inside she waves again and it's a little awkward but adorable at the same time.

I walk home in a strange mix of relief and shame.

* * *

Kafei leaves mid-morning the following day. He's polite and charming all through breakfast but it's clear he doesn't want to go home. He has to, though, because if his parents thinks he has run away again he'll only cause more fighting.

After he leaves I just sit around and wait for Zelda's text. Aryll slips out unnoticed but neither Grandma nor I mention it. All I can think about is what Zelda's thinking about my situation, and then my thoughts go to Colin. I want him to wake up but I know that if he does I might get into some serious legal trouble. I try not to think about it too much, but if Colin is honest and angry I might go to jails for years. That is, if he ever wakes up, but I'd rather go to prison than for Colin to die. Either way I'm doomed.

Zelda's text breaks my dismal thoughts and she asks if I'd like to have lunch at her house. I quickly respond with a resounding yes and hop on the next bus before I can start panicking.

The darkness had hidden Zelda's townhouse's grandeur last night, but now there is nothing to conceal it in the middle of the day. It's painted pure white and the gates and railings are made of strong iron twisted into intricate, formidable designs. The short stone path that leads to the plum purple door is lined with pink and yellow flowers and no weeds poke through the cracks. A Hylian flag flutters above me, and I remember that Zelda's father is a politician of some kind. A judge I think?

Goddesses, I am not ready to meet any kind of family.

I press a button and even the doorbell is stately with its low _dings_ and _dongs_. Suddenly I'm nervous. Why did I wear just a sweater and jeans? I should've worn a suit, or maybe a turtleneck to hide my scar, because dammit I do not want Zelda's father to only be able to focus on that disgusting scar.

The door swings open and Zelda's standing there in clothes that look like they're meant for prep school; a red argyle sweater over a button down shirt, a pleated brown skirt, and dark brown shoes that girls always complain about wearing. Her hair is pulled back into a perfect braid (something that I imagine took a while to do) and she's standing up straighter than usual. Her cobalt eyes are intelligent but they're empty of emotion. She stares at me with a polite and bored expression, the kind kids put on when they talk to relatives they really don't care about.

"Apologies," she says in a regal, monotone voice. "But I am unable to meet with you at the moment. We will have to reschedule. I apologize for the inconvenience."

I'm stunned. Since when did Zelda talk like that? And who dresses up this much for lazing around the house?

And did I just get kicked out?

She's staring at me now somewhat impatiently but the overly polite smile remains and now I'm feeling awkward.

"Do you require assistance finding your way home?" She asks with a small tilt of her head, and it takes me a moment to realize I've just been insulted.

I shake my head slowly. Something isn't right…

"Pardon me, Princess," someone says from behind her, and a woman brushes past Zelda to stand beside her. She's tall with broad shoulders and sharp, angular features, which only look more menacing due to her tight, full-body black ensemble. Two red Sheikah Eye tattoos decorate her face, one under each eye. Her eyes are a bit sunken into her pale face but they're a powerful crimson that make her look like she should be battling monsters rather than be in Kakariko. Seriously, why is she not kicking ass somewhere? Even her white hair is pulled back into a slick bun that is so well kept I think it might be a helmet.

"Are you Link?" She asks authoritatively, never even blinking.

I nod, and for once I'm happy to be incapable of speech because I'm sure I'd be blubbering like an idiot by now.

"Wait here," she orders and slams the door in my face. I hear the faint sounds of urgent conversation from inside and then silence. A few seconds later, though, the door swings open again and Zelda's gone but the fierce woman remains.

"Please, come in," she says, though it's more of a demand.

Still bewildered, I step in and she shuts the door behind me. Without a word she begins marching down a hallway. I quickly follow her and try to take in as much as the house as possible while not falling too far behind, but there isn't much to take in. The ceilings are exceptionally high with various styles of chandeliers and a few plants that I cannot name are placed around the room, though that's all that I can really see. Unlike my house there is no evidence of a family. No family photos, no clay pots made by a five year old, no saved birthday cars, and no tacky decorations. It feels more like a hotel than a home.

I follow the warrior woman to a large room that doubles as a kitchen and a casual dining area. The kitchen is the epitome of Grandma's dream with its granite countertops, collection of pots and pans that hang from the ceiling, assortment of silver appliances, and decorative towers of wine that I'm sure costs more than anything I've ever owned.

"Now that we're secluded," the woman begins with a bit more easiness to her tone, but her face seems to be stuck in that I've-killed-a-man face. "We can have proper introductions. I'm Impa, Zelda's caretaker of sorts."

"_Caretaker?_" I sign with exaggerated motions and a confused expression to show it's a question. I had immediately went into sign language without thinking, and, much to my surprise, Impa understands.

"As you may know, Zelda's father is a member of the High Court and he's often absent. Ever since Zelda was a baby I've helped the Harkarians raise her, and after she was diagnosed with MPD it was agreed that I would remain with Zelda. I take her to therapy, I watch her when she's someone else, and I continue to raise her when her father is away. I suppose you could call me a nanny, but Zelda is hardly a baby."

I nod, and it's a bit of a comfort knowing that Zelda's always being watched over.

"You seemed a bit surprised when Zelda opened the door," she states, placing her hands on her hips. "I'm guessing you haven't met Princess?"

I shake my head.

"Princess is Zelda's least troublesome personality. She appears whenever Zelda is stressed, which is usually over homework but sometimes when therapy is too taxing she'll take over. As you can see, Princess is rather robotic in her actions and takes herself very seriously, as if she were an actual princess. She usually just sits in Zelda's room and does homework, so, you see, she isn't a bad personality, but I'd rather have Zelda."

Zelda's never really talked about her other personalities before, so it's interesting and unnerving hearing about them. Sometimes I forget she has this disorder, and I like those times when I forget. It's one less thing to be scared of.

"_How many are there_?" I ask.

"Five. There used to be six, but the sixth one hasn't appeared for three years, so we're thinking therapy got rid of that one."

"_What are their names?"_

"Princess, Tetra, Ellie, Death, and Sheik," she answers immediately like she's on automatic. "You've met the first two, and Ellie is also rather harmless. She's the child version of Zelda, and so she's very naïve and playful. Unfortunately, Ellie likes to stay for a long time and watching Zelda as a toddler distresses Zelda's father more than we thought it would. Death, however, is much more unpleasant. That personality considers herself to be a ghost or somebody on their deathbed – it's rather unclear – and she is very cynical, sarcastic, and depressing. The only good thing about Death is that she won't talk to people she doesn't know. And Sheik…"

She hesitates.

"Sheik…" she repeats, looking uncertain for just a second before continuing. "Sheik is Zelda's aggressive personality. Almost every patient with MPD has one, and if you've done any research you'll know to stay away from Sheik. If Zelda shows any hint of being Sheik, you must promise me that you'll leave immediately."

That makes my stomach drop.

"_What if we are outside this house?" _I ask while trying to dismiss any feeling of nausea or fear. I understand now why Zelda doesn't talk about the other personalities, they sound crazy.

"Give me your phone," she demands, and there's not way I'm denying the warrior woman, so I place it in her open hand. She quickly flips it open and adds herself to my contacts. "If Zelda requires my assistance then call me and I will come get her from wherever you are. I suggest then that you don't go far."

I nod, and before I can ask anymore questions the distant sound of music interrupts us. I can't make out any recognizable rhythms or words, but Impa takes it as a sign.

"Zelda has returned then," she states. "Go up the stairs and it's the third door to your left."

The idea of barging into Zelda's bedroom unannounced makes me pause, but I don't see how I can argue with this woman, so I turn to follow her orders. As I'm passing through the threshold of the door, she adds,

"And, Link…. Zelda is a special girl, so special that she doesn't have many friends. I read about what happened with you and I have my suspicions, but Zelda trusts you, so let me just tell you this: you treat her well, or mutism won't be your only concern."

I tell myself not to look back at her because, oh goddesses, was I just threatened? Shit, I was.

Now I rush up the stairs and run towards Zelda's room. The increasing volume of her music tries to squash my thoughts but I can't stop thinking about crazy personalities and the death threat I just got.

I knock on the door and I recognize Zelda's voice yell, "Come in!"

Opening the door, I find Zelda sitting on a large bed that's tucked in the corner of a small, rectangular room. She doesn't notice me at first because she's focused on her camera, and I take the moment to admire the room. While the rest of the house lacks any sign of a family, Zelda's room screams of life. The pale pink walls are covered with photographs of various sizes (most of which I assume she took herself), prints of famous paintings, and diagrams. Her bookcase is overflowing and more books are spread out around the room, piling on top of her desk, her dresser, and on the beige carpet. Nothing is where it's supposed to be; clothes are draped over her desk chair, her laptop is beside her on the bed, and her iPod speakers lie on the floor. I finally recognize the song and smile. _Lost in My Mind_ by The Head and the Heart. How fitting.

Zelda finally looks up and she gasps when she sees me.

"L-Link," she stutters and begins frantically touching her hair and the unmade bed. I notice that she's changed her attire a bit; the argyle sweater and ugly brown shoes lie in a heap on the floor and her hair now hangs freely around her face. "I-I…um, sorry about the mess. It's not usually like this, and I don't know why I said that because it is like this all the time, and oh crap what time is it? I'm sorry I got caught up being not-me and I didn't realize – "

"_Do not worry_," I sign and I can't help but grin. "_Impa told me to come up here. I can leave if you want_."

"O-oh, no that's fine," she fumbles and runs her hands through her hair. "It's just so _messy_."

"_Have you seen my house?" _I ask. "_And I like your room._"

"What could you possibly like about my room?" she questions with exasperation as I look around again. "The ugly pink walls? Because I promise you that wasn't my idea. My dad insisted that I have pink walls because pink has been proven to calm people down. Personally I wanted blue but…ugh, I am rambling. Ignore me."

I grin at her and she finally smiles as she blushes in embarrassment.

"_Did you take all of these?_" I ask and then gesture to the multitude of photographs on the walls.

"Yeah," she answers a bit shyly. "I'm in a photography class at the community school downtown, but you don't need to look at them. Really. Just step away from the wall. They're all so – "

She doesn't finish though, because I finally see what she was hoping I wouldn't.

They're just pictures, but they're pictures of _me_. Five photos in total, each completely different from the other. I recognize one as the first she ever took of me. It's the day we met when we shook hands and she thought the image of my arm (which was covered in ink at the time) was so fascinating next to her clean one. Then there's one of me eating a hamburger and my cheeks look like they belong to a squirrel because they're so full, but I'm still managing to smile and I look absolutely childish. Another one is just my face with a leafy background, and I think it's the day that we met under a tree after the pep rally. I'm looking away from her but I'm incredibly pensive and melancholy. There's a black and white photo where I'm not looking at her again but the scar on my throat is prominent due to the stark lighting. The last one is from last night at dinner. I'm smiling but I look sad. Do I always look like that? Guess I'm not that good at keeping up a mask.

"This is all kinda embarrassing…" she mumbles nervously and I can barely hear her over the sound of the music. "It's just that I'm supposed to have a series of photos that share the same theme, and I didn't mean to at first but my theme is…well, it's you…but I can get rid of those photos if you want. It's just a project after all."

"_No_," I sign, my eyes still fixed on the photos. "_They are beautiful_."

There's a beat of awkward silence, merely a beat, and then she breaks it.

"That's because you love looking at yourself," she teases. "I bet you're just dying to pose now."

I grin and strike a dramatic stance with my hands on my hips, my chest out, and my head held high. She giggles and it's a beautiful noise.

"_But if you need to photograph me, I will be happy to help_," I add seriously and she smiles shyly.

"Thank you, I might take you up on that."

I nod and then we fall to silence with just the words of Jon Russell filling the room.

"Wanna know something interesting?" She says suddenly as she walks over and stands beside me. "Photography is more than just an art for me. My therapist and I have trained my personalities to take photographs whenever they are in control so I know where I've been and who I've been with. That's why my camera is almost always with me. Most of the time they'll do it, but not always. Princess – who I am sure Impa told you about – always does it because she's a perfectionist." She holds her camera out to me. "These are the pictures Princess took. Nothing interesting thankfully."

I look at three photos in total and it's just her room, a computer screen, and another room that looks like a study.

"Sometimes it's nice when Princess does all my homework for me," she adds, and I don't know why she's telling me all this but I like that she is. "Except her writing style is so robotic and uses too many unnecessary words that I usually have to rewrite them."

She walks across the room, gracefully stepping over any items on the floor, and stands by her desk.

"I hate my disorder, but I can see why some people are so fascinated by it," she says thoughtfully. "My room is messy but I think it really represents my brain. See," she points to a couple of diagrams on the wall that illustrate either the digestive system, the architecture of the Temple of Time, and the Periodic Table of Elements. "Princess put these up, and Tetra likes the ocean so she brought these," she gestures to a couple of shells on her desk and a print of a painting labeled _Cliff Walk at Pourville_ by Claude Monet. "Did Impa tell you about Ellie? Yes, well, I keep these DVDs of kid shows here so that she can enjoy them, and I also have a little stash of candy for her.

"Death's favorite books are _The Catcher in the Rye_ and _Flowers for Algernon_, so I have them here for her and I even have them on tape, because I know that she is sometimes too tired to actually read them. She's a bit melodramatic, so I have a playlist of depressing music just for her."

She then rushes over to the closet, which is also overflowing with clothes, shoes, and more books.

"And each of them have their own clothing preferences," she continues to explain in a rush of words, as if she can't get it out fast enough. "Princess loves to look all preppy and, well, like a princess, so I have a lot of skirts, blazers, polos, and sweaters for her. Tetra is more of a tomboy and she likes t-shirts and shorts, specifically ones with the sleeves torn off and shorts that are frayed at the end. She also always wears sandals. Always. Death either wears all white or all black dresses, but they're not pretty dresses, they're ugly dresses. Her fashion sense is way off. Ellie doesn't have much of a preference except she loves pink and yellow. I'd get her more kid looking clothes but it's hard to find any that fit me, and it's bad enough that she makes me act like an overgrown child, there's no need to look like one."

She pauses now and glances at me over her shoulder.

"Think I'm crazy yet?"

I shake my head and smile.

"_You are right," _I sign. "_It is interesting._"

I notice that she never mentioned Sheik, but I don't ask.

"Not crazy?"

"_Not crazy. You are the…_" I want to say sanest but I don't know how, so I have to improvise. "_not craziest person I know_."

She smiles and my stomach feels oddly warm and tight. Shutting the closet doors, she flings herself back on her bed and I sit beside her. _Lost in My Mind_ ends and switches to the next song, _Madness_ by Muse.

We look at each other and laugh. There are no words shared but we both get the joke. I pick up her iPod and look through the songs. All the ones I recognize have something to do with the brain.

"It's my Mental Playlist," she explains. "Don't judge."

I notice a song by Taylor Swift and show it to her with my eyebrows raised in a ridiculous expression.

"We all have our secret pleasures!" She shouts and snatches the iPod out of my hand, but she's smiling. "Mine just happens to be a love for Taylor Swift, though I am ashamed of it."

I chuckle, which is really just short gasps of air and my shoulders shaking, and she playfully hits my shoulder.

"You are judging me. May I remind you that you saw _High School Musical Three _in theaters!"

"_I was taking my sister!"_

"There is no excuse. You went because you wanted to because you loved it."

"_Now you are just being mean_."

She grins mischievously and leans back against the wall.

"How was the rest of your Harvest Festival?" She asks casually and I shrug.

"_Fine. Kafei left this morning and I have not seen Aryll since last night. How was yours?"_

"My dad was asleep by the time I got home and he left early this morning. He works a lot. When he's not at the courts he's campaigning for mental healthcare reform. But…I wanted to talk to you about last night."

My smile falls. This can't be good.

She curls her legs under her and faces me with a serious expression in her cobalt eyes. "Link, I need to know how you really feel about what happened to you and that boy, because I can help you, but only if you want it."

"_I would do anything to fix it," _I sign instantly. "_Anything_."

"Even apologize to him and his parents?"

I hesitate.

"_Yes_," I agree. "_Even that_."

"Good, because I think that's the first thing you need to do."

I take a deep breath. It'll be difficult, but she's right of course.

"And Link?" she adds. "You're not a bad person. Just remember that, okay?"

It shouldn't, but the fact that she has hope in me affects me more than I would like to admit.

"Now, let's do something normal and get fat while watching T.V. Though I must warn you, my other secret pleasure is Project Runway."

* * *

_Author's Note_

_And then they have a magical day doing shit trololololol_

_WRITER'S. BLOCK. SUCKS. THERE IS NO HOPE. _

_But seriously, sorry for the long delay for a rather dull chapter. I consider this a transition chapter where I can establish a few things, and I wanted Zelda's MPD to be elaborated on. Next chapter is going to be much more intense/better/interesting, I promise._

_About MPD…the disorder is still being researched, which means I can blame any inaccuracies on that! :p But Zelda's personalities are based off of the games and actual cases that I have read about. Many MPD patients have a child personality, which is Ellie (sounds like Zellie? And she is based off the Spirit Tracks personality), and they often have aggressive personalities too (which is Sheik). Death is based off of one woman's alter called Enigma, and because in the games Zelda often goes into coma like state (she turns to stone in one, trapped in a crystal in multiple ones, and in Twilight Princess she's possessed). The rest are pretty easy to understand I think, but if you have any questions or concerns please voice them!_

_Now I have a question for you all: if I created a tumblr page where you could follow the progress of this story, read deleted scenes (cause there are a lot), etc, would any of you be interested in actually following it? Just curious._

_I feel bad for taking so long, especially when all the reviews have been so great! Thank you __**Sun wind dragon, Ashlynn, HeyHey, AngelicParadox91, sslamajama97, Bleachshowlover1, Guest, Fireygummybears, The Super Twins, Canada Cowboy, david Davidson, Tarooso, KaChan84, Shadow's Lament, BlueFrenchHorn97, LeilaEditer, Kamil the Awesome, ShadowNinja1011, Rawr I'm A Toaster, burning book, Oblivion Star Seeker, link200r, Hummingbird-95, Generala, LinkLover123, Epicocity, SkYeLiMiT, **__and __**aipatchi**__for your awesome, supportive reviews. Thank you!_

_And a special thanks to __**Canada Cowboy **__for helping me out with plot holes. We're still working on it, but I just want to thank you for your help! And I'll get back to you soon on the outline you sent me._

_Thanks!_

_~~Wave~~_


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Saturday I tell myself I will go visit Colin.

I end up helping clean the house all day with Grandma and then watching some really crappy television show about old lady makeovers with her for two hours.

Sunday I am getting dressed, ready to make the trip down to the hospital, when I see Aryll go out the door and I know she's going to the hospital as well. There's no way I want to visit while Aryll is there, so I do homework instead.

Monday is the same as Sunday, except I don't know for sure that Aryll is with Colin but I don't want to risk it. I doubt Aryll would kick me out or anything (would she?), in fact she might be pleased to see me there (right?), but she hasn't even looked at me since the Harvest Festival, so I sit this day out. I do more homework and throw a bouncy ball at the wall.

Tuesday I actually can't go because I have therapy and then Zelda and I go out to get milkshakes like we always do. When she asks me if I've gone to apologize yet I promise I'll go tomorrow.

Wednesday Aryll is visiting again…I think…and Grandma has her monthly doctor's appointment, so I go with her to the clinic, but the drive takes forever because she's old and goes ten miles under the speed limit, so I don't have time to visit.

Thursday is the same as Tuesday, except this time Zelda looks disappointed in me when I tell her I haven't been able to go, and I feel ashamed of myself. I eat a lot of ice cream that night.

Friday is the day I finally go. I wait till Aryll returns home and gets in the shower, signaling the end of her night. She does this around five, and then it takes thirteen minutes to get to the hospital by public bus, one minute to walk to the front door and ask for directions to Colin's room, and then ten minutes to compose myself. Standing in the elevator, I take deep breaths that are a tinge raspy due to my damaged throat. The sound is like the distant buzz on radio stations when they aren't quite set correctly, and it reminds me of the first night I awoke in the hospital. When I was told I was mute and that Colin was in critical condition I spent the whole night screaming but without any sound coming out. Hours and hours went by and I continued to try to force a sound to come out of my mouth, until the action strained my throat so much that I had to be sedated.

I swallow and I swear for a second I can feel the corroded silver bar still lodged in my neck.

As I trudge down the hospital corridor I realize this is the first time I will see Colin since the accident. And then his parents…. Shit.

I reach his door and immediately the image of him floating underwater returns. The moonlight illuminates him in flashes, the growing amount of blood a stark contrast to his white skin, and as I swim closer more blood blossoms around him, swirling with the underwater currents like deadly spirits encircling his body.

A doctor walks past me. I snap out of it.

I open the door.

Oddly enough it's a bit of a relief to see Colin lying on the hospital bed. I couldn't stop picturing him covered in blood or sinking farther and farther underwater, but he's here now, clean and wrapped in white like an angel. He's surrounded by machines of various sizes and wires coil in and around him while a steady beeping noise dings in the background.

I take a few steps closer and stand beside the bed. A large plastic mask covers his mouth and nose, collecting every single shallow breath. A thick bandage is wrapped around the top of his head, covering his flaxen hair, and the rest of his body is hidden by a thin hospital gown and sheet.

He looks as if he's asleep. I've never seen him so peaceful, but I know wounds are festering underneath all the white drapery, and I have a sudden desire to see the pain I've caused. I want to know the full truth of the situation, and if moving him wouldn't injure him more I'd flip him over and check his back for the cuts I know must be there.

I take a moment to scan the rest of the room. The windowsill is overflowing with flowers and get-well-soon cards and there's even a teddy bear on the seat. Aryll gave him that. I saw her with it once after school.

Very few people left gifts for me. Grandma left flowers and chocolate, of course, and there were some get-well cards from Mikau, Saria, and Malon (an old camp friend who doesn't even go to my school), but that's it. Looking at all the presents he continues to receive after _months_ of hospitalization, I realize how little friends I had then. It's pathetic, really, and the fact that I am currently jealous of Colin's gifts is even more pathetic.

Pulling out my notepad and pen, I sit down in the chair beside Colin and I…sit. I just…sit.

I had been hoping I would know what to do when I finally got here. Maybe I would write a huge apology letter that was more moving than any Shakespearian soliloquy, or maybe I'd hold his hand and all my feelings would travel from my hand into him and he'd wake up and smile.

But I feel like I am not allowed to touch him and I've never been good at communicating, especially now when I mostly use nods and facial expressions to convey my thoughts.

Sighing, I tap my pen against my paper and think of what to write. Where to begin? Should I even write? He won't be able to read it until he wakes up (if he wakes up), and even then he might have too much brain damage to be capable of reading it.

I run a hand through my hair and sigh again. Last night I had the whole letter planned out, but now I can't remember a single thing of what I wanted to say. I want to write about everything, but does he want to even hear it? Are there words to express my grief?

After ten minutes of a few false starts, I leave the room and go to the bathroom to try to collect my thoughts. Thankfully, nobody is in there, so I lean against the sink and stare into the mirror. Since when did my blond hair get so shaggy, and do my eyes always look this dull and sad? I lift my chin up in order to fully expose my scar. A constant reminder to myself and everyone around me. I run a finger over its bumpy surface. A testament. A memorial. A past. A flaw. A punishment. A beginning and an end.

A scar.

And suddenly everything clicks. I rush back to the room (which is thankfully still empty) and begin to write.

For the first time in perhaps my entire life the words come easily. Even before the accident I was confused about who I am and what I wanted – granted, I am still confused – but now I feel much more connected to what I am really feeling. Before I joined the soccer team my freshmen year of high school I wasn't great socially. Bullying wasn't a problem for me, but I was tired of spending all my free time alone or with my family. I wanted to experience life the way that everybody talks about, with the great parties and the crazy yet sexy girls and doing stupid but hilarious pranks and dealing with love triangles…. I wanted it so badly that I jumped off the abandoned watchtower. A lot of people jumped, and they were all fine. Somehow going from point A to point B did something to us that I once thought was for the better. By jumping we proved that we could conquer our fears and the ancient, supposedly haunted, ruins of a time of heroes and villains, and, like any unfit ruler, that made us arrogant, made us neglect others, and made us strive for more power, because if the jump became unimportant, then we were unimportant.

Few people actually like jumping, but it's a cycle. When I jumped I remember thinking that I'd never make anybody do this because it's idiotic and dangerous, but the rush of excitement and accomplishment and the desire to keep my position important….

So Colin had to jump. He had to jump to sustain my reputation, to sustain all our reputations, and that is the flawed thinking of an ignorant, selfish teenager.

Near the end of my letter, the door creaks open. I jump with surprise and accidentally chuck my pencil across the room. Heart pounding, I look over my shoulder to see who's standing in the door.

I freeze.

The past few months have not been good to Colin's father. His once keen, stormy grey eyes – the same as Colin's – are now as lifeless as stone and they're surrounded by dark circles. In just half a year he seems to have aged twenty years. Wrinkles decorate his forehead, cheeks, and the corners of his nose and mouth. His skin, which was once richly tan, now sags from his high cheekbones, making his square jaw and sharp nose much less prominent than before. Limp, greasy blond hair has grown too far and brushes his eyelashes. His simple clothes hang off of his frail body as if they were never even his to begin with. He's a ghost. A skeleton. A casualty. A scar.

Neither of us move. We stare, unblinking, and I truly believe time has stopped, but for how long I do not know. I try to read his emotions – anger? Sadness? – but he's just shocked.

"_Colin's been kicked up to varsity," Rusl, Colin's father, said, but without the excitement I had been expecting._

"_I know!" I exclaimed, ignoring his unusual behavior. "We've been practicing for so long and he's really gotten better."_

"_Yes, thank you for that. Colin is very excited."_

"_No problem."_

_We fell to silence and just listened to the sound of the creek swimming past rocks and sticks as we watched our bait bob in the water. Somewhere in the distance I heard Colin's heavy footsteps. He had to run back to the truck to get more tack, leaving Rusl and I alone._

"_Link…" he began, and I knew something important was coming up. "I am worried about him."_

"_Why?"_

"_He's not like you and the other boys, but he wants to be. I know high school is hard – I was your age once – and he really does just want to be part of the team, and that Talo boy hasn't got much better even though he's grown…. What I'm saying, Link, is that I would very much appreciate it if you'd help him out some more. Keep him out of trouble and help him make friends. Will you do that for me?"_

"_Of course," I agreed. "It's really no problem. I like hanging out with Colin."_

"_Thank you."_

"Link…" Rusl practically gasps, but he says no more. He continues to stare at me, and then some sort of realization hits him because his eyes grow a bit wider and he blinks twice.

Slowly, he walks towards me and his footsteps keep in time with my pounding heart. His shoulders shag and he sways with each step. I'm trembling.

He stands beside me and looks down, letting the shadows hide his face, and it takes all my strength to maintain eye contact.

"I don't know if I should hit you or hug you."

He doesn't sound angry, only sad, but it's more than just sad. He's despondent, disillusioned. This man is broken.

"You put my son in a coma by bringing him to that tower…yet you also kept him from death by diving in after him. You didn't listen to him, but you sacrificed your voice for him. You…"

He trails off, suddenly breathless, then pulls a chair over and sinks into it. His gaze is focused solely on Colin now, but I can tell his mind is reeling.

I look to where he's looking – Colin's peaceful face – and my heart constricts. I did this. I put his life in danger, and now Rusl is dying from his own sadness.

Minutes pass and I just listen to his breathing sync to his son's heart monitor. Inhale. Beep. Exhale. Beep. Inhale. Beep. Exhale.

He's perfectly still, but I can't stop shaking. My heart seems to shrink with every pump of blood and there's a hurricane in my brain. I can feel my emotions swelling up like a volcano, but I'm not sure if it's anger, sorrow, shame, or fear. I tell myself to just shut up and wait for Rusl to do something.

And after five or so minutes, he does.

"As you can see," he says in what now seems to be a permanent shaky, weak voice. "I am quite torn on how I feel about you. On one hand you were just trying to help him and I am certain this was an accident, but on the other hand you made a horrible, horrible mistake. You let him get swept up in all this peer pressure, but you were too. You let him jump, but you risked your life to save him. You had a wonderful voice…and he is a wonderful boy."

He takes a deep breath and blinks back tears. Shifting in his chair, he adds in an airy, almost ghostly, voice,

"I could sue you. I could have you arrested. Five years in prison, maybe ten. I could ruin your life. Uli wants to. She keeps saying how she's gonna call her brother one of these days – he's a lawyer, you know – and that she's gonna have him destroy you…but she never does. You…you are like a son to us, and that's why this hurts so much more."

He covers his face in his hands and he goes silent. I watch him rub his tired eyes and wrinkled forehead as his shoulders tense and deflate with each trembling breath.

My hand is shaking as I write _I'm sorry_, and a drop of water splashes onto the page. It takes me a moment to realize that the water is my own tear, and, goddesses, the words "I'm sorry" written in such sloppy handwriting on some crap paper just doesn't cover it. Ashamed, I close my notepad and place it on the floor.

When he finally removes his hands from his face and looks at me, I'm a wreck. Tears are streaming down my face and if I had a voice I would be hysteric but I'm silent. My stupidity has robbed me of my ability to wail over my stupidity.

For a second I try to make it seem like I've got myself under control, but once he looks at me I collapse. I curl in on myself and now I'm the one cradling my head in my hands. Silent sobs forcefully shake my body and my fingers dig into my scalp, pulling at my hair as tears stain my face and soak my neck and shirt.

Thin arms circle around me and my face is uncomfortably pressed up against his bony shoulder. All shame gone, I grab onto his grey shirt and sob into him. He smells like smoke and wilderness and his shirt is worn and scratchy. I nearly killed his son but he lets me cry on him. In all the years we've been friends I never realized how much of a father he was – _is _– to me until now.

His hands slowly run up and down my back, but he doesn't tell me everything is going to be okay or that he forgives me. I don't blame him for that, though it makes me cry even more. Tears soak my face and they rain down on his shirt. I find myself tugging on him, trying to bring him closer, maybe go back in time and make all this stop. He just holds me tighter.

"_Link…"_

_I didn't say anything but continued to stare at the polished stones. Their names should not have been there._

"_Link…come here."_

_I didn't move, but he came to me. He picked me up and carried me home. He let me cry on his nice suit and tie that he took out about once a year. He tucked me into bed and petted my head till I fell asleep._

We stay together for a long time – I am not sure how long exactly – but I cry until there are no more tears. I cry until my head hurts and I am in desperate need of a tissue. I cry until he pets my hair and tells me to go home in his soft, scratchy voice.

* * *

I don't go home after that; instead, I head to the hospital's tiny courtyard and try to finish my letter to Colin, but it's harder now than before. Sitting on a bench with my jacket's collar turned up to block out the wind and my sleeves barely covering my numbing fingers, I try to think of an appropriate way to end the letter, but my mind keeps going back to Rusl. He used to be strong and confident and now…

Sighing, I run a hand through my shaggy hair. I never thought much about how his parents were doing, but I should've known they'd be a wreck with their only child in the hospital. And Uli…she's probably worse looking than Rusl.

I wipe my eyes and force away any remaining tears. Enough crying for today. With firm determination, I channel all my thoughts to writing. After an hour of careful wording and pondering, I write an honest, apologetic letter that I deem worthy of putting by Colin's bedside so that he can read it if – _when_ – he wakes.

By the time I finish twilight has fallen and visiting hours are almost over. I rush up the stairs and to his door with the intention of getting in and getting out so that I don't get too emotional again, because it's been a highly charged day and I am drained off all feelings. Opening the door, I decide that I am mentally spent and nothing can trigger any more emotions for the rest of the week –

I freeze in the doorway and my mouth falls open.

Holy shit.

Holy _shit_.

Talo, the boy with cruel brown eyes and a thin mouth that is always turned up in a smirk or turned down in a sneer, the boy who punches anyone who looks at him funny, the boy who blamed me for Colin's demise even though he's the one who pressures people to jump in the first place, the boy who once refused to eat Oreos because his friend said they supported gay marriage, is sitting beside Colin's bed with one hand holding a bouquet of flowers and the other holding Colin's limp hand.

Thank goddesses his back is towards me and he doesn't see me, because I spend at least five minutes just staring at him in shock. His thumb caresses Colin's knuckles in slow circles. He whispers something that only Colin can hear, but I can tell they are sweet, loving words, and I have never heard Talo sound so compassionate and gentle before, but maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. Maybe this isn't what I think it is –

Talo gingerly brings Colin's hand up and he places a soft kiss on his fingers.

_Holy shit!_

I stumble backwards with the realization and I slam into the door. Talo instantly spins around, his face white with fear at having been caught, and my heart is fluttering wildly like a bird trapped in a cage. We lock eyes and his wide-eyed gaze is the epitome of terror. His secret is out, and to the person he hates the most.

Neither of us move for a second but then I am out the door and sprinting down the hallway. Head reeling, I run through the hospital without thought, following the exit signs until I'm back out into the cold night. I don't take the bus home but just keep running because holy shit everything makes so much sense now. Talo never had a girlfriend and he always bullied anybody who was gay because it made him nervous and insecure and it's so cliché that the bully is gay but holy shit it's actually real! Talo hits everybody but he never hit Colin, and I even remember him stopping others from hitting him, but does this mean that Colin is gay? Does Colin even know?

I stop running at that thought.

Holy shit.

Running my hands through my hair, I begin pacing along the sidewalk. Should I ask Aryll about it? Should I confront Talo? Should I tell the whole world?

I try screaming but nothing comes out. It's crazy! Has this been going on for years? Maybe it was a new development? But it makes sense that Talo would be so cruel to me when I've hurt somebody he loves!

I feel like I just solved the mystery of the universe, but I have no idea what to do with this powerful, potentially damaging knowledge.

Suddenly a fist comes from seemingly out of nowhere and punches me in the face, making me fall backwards to the ground. Instantly a weight is on top of me that pins my legs to the ground and somebody grabs me by my collar. My upper half is lifted off the ground and my face is now inches away from Talo's brutish, furious, and ashamed expression.

"Don't you dare tell anybody!" He screams but his voice is shaking and tears build up in the corners of your eyes. "You saw nothing, dipshit! You got that? NOTHING!"

He shakes me a few times and I hear him sniffle, holding back tears. I let him smack me across the face because I am too overwhelmed to even fight back. Thankfully, he gets off of me and takes a few steps away.

"If you tell _anybody_," he snarls as he wipes his nose with the back of his hand. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he says again with the venom and fear of a snake at the mercy of a weapon, "If you tell anybody…I will kill you."

He takes another step back and breathes in deep.

"I'll kill you, Link. Don't think I won't. I'll kill you."

Stunned, I just lie on the ground and watch him bolt in the other direction, the darkness swallowing him up and his threat filling the air around me as if he were right there, whispering it into my ear.

Author's Note

_Duh duh duuuuuuuuuuhh! I don't know why this chapter is so short, but a lot happened, so that makes up for it right? And I am hoping that now it's summer I will post chapters every week rather than every other week. I'd like to get this done before August 18th (when I leave for college)._

_The tumblr page for this story is now available ( wavescales. tumblr. Com) delete the spaces. Also, did I really pick wavescales as a username? What the hell was I thinking?_

_As always I love all the reviews you guys have given me, so thank you __**BlueFrenchHorn97, Canada Cowboy, Linkforever125, ScooterJLM, A Shadow's Lament, Miss Ashlynn, Sparkling-Iris, Guest, link200r, richardbg2, Guest, ScootinJackMcCue, KaChan84, ShadowNinja1011, burning book, LeilaEditer, aipatchi, Kamil the Awesome, Yanner12, SweetCarnation, toolazytologin, Namine Rose25, hylianprincessZ, Sun-Wind Dragon, **__and __**Epicocity **__for your wonderful reviews!_

_Things are picking up now. Are you excited? Cause I am. :)_

_~~Wave~~_


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Updated July 8th, 2013

* * *

Thank goddesses the following day is a Saturday because I get no sleep that night. All I can think about is what to do next. What if I told everybody? Would they even believe me, or would Talo kill me before I could even type the message on Facebook and click post? What if I told Aryll? Does she know about Talo? Is Colin gay? I just can't imagine him doing that to Aryll, or being into Talo.

What if I told no one?

Whenever I imagine letting the world know about Talo, there is no satisfaction. He makes my life miserable and he's such an ass and he is an absolute idiot…yet I can't bring myself to even consider it and I kind of feel like a loser for being unable to seek revenge. Then again, he did give me a death threat.

The only person I tell is Zelda because I know she won't tell anybody, but she hasn't responded to a single text. Even if she is a different personality she usually replies with some weird comment. Her lack of response doesn't bother me though, because holy shit what am I supposed to do about Talo? I know something is wrong, however, when group therapy is canceled in the morning. Our meetings are sporadic enough already (we converse every other week), but Zelda rarely cancels. I assume that she's probably a different personality right now. It's not like she can always be herself at the exact same time every other Saturday. It was bound to happen one day.

So I ignore the nagging of worry and refocus on Talo. Talo, Talo, Talo….holy shit.

I mope around the house all day just wondering on what to do, reflecting on past interactions between Talo and Colin, and pondering the consequences of all my actions. For the few seconds when I am not thinking of Talo I am thinking of Rusl, and thinking of him brings about a scary idea. My thoughts keep returning to Aryll however…maybe because I can hear her blasting her music in her room, or maybe because she's my sister and I am always worried about her, or maybe because I just want answers, but after a whole day of contemplation all I want is another opinion. She would know. She has to know. But will she tell me?

….Maybe?

With a dramatic sigh, I push myself off the couch and head upstairs. Her music grows louder with each step, and it's some weird indie, electronica song that I don't recognize because it's a different language. As I push open the door I realize that I can't remember when she started liking this kind of music.

I find Aryll sitting at her desk typing on her computer, but she immediately sees me and slams her laptop shut. Her sun kissed blonde hair is twirled into loose pigtails and she's wearing a blue floral dress with a white cardigan, yet her stare is anything but sweet. I'm not used to receiving such animosity from her usually kind eyes, and so it makes me stumble with my plan. Without thinking I open her laptop, ignore her angry, "Hey!," open a new word document, and type,

**Is Colin gay?**

I step back to let her see. Her mouth falls open a bit and her eyebrows scrunch together with confusion. She looks at the screen as if it slapped her in the face, and then she turns that look on me.

"What? No," She snaps. "Why would you ask that? Is this some kind of dumb joke?"

I shake my head and reach for the keyboard.

**Are you sure? You never saw anything….?**

She looks at me with genuine confusion and I know that if Colin is actually gay then Aryll is completely clueless of it.

"Yes I am sure," she replies defensively. "Because he was dating _me_. Now why are you even asking me?"

I avert my gaze to the window and shrug, unsure of whether to be honest or not. For some reason that irks her and she turns back to her computer with a huff while grumbling, "What is it with you people always thinking that any nice guy must be gay? Or do you just like starting rumors?"

She starts typing in an effort to dismiss me, but the term _you people_ sparks a prickle of anger in my blood and I can feel myself succumbing to a growing fury.

Snatching the computer from her, I type, **You know I'm not like that.**

Frowning, she grabs her laptop and snaps, "Oh please, you are just like the rest of those idiot jocks. You think you know everything and you think everybody loves you and you have to maintain your power by making innocent boys jump off towers – "

Before she can finish I latch onto her computer and type furiously, **I used to be like that but I am different now! I am not one of them!**

"What are you talking about?" She shouts with exasperation. "You just asked me if Colin is gay!"

**IT WAS A SERIOUS QUESTION**

"And why the hell do you think he's gay in the first place?" she yells. "What is it with you always trying to ruin everything – "

"What is going on here!?" Grandma shouts over her daughter with surprising strength, and we both snap our heads to the door. For a tiny woman she appears incredibly intimidating standing with her hands on her hips and her usually sweet face contorted into an expression of fury. She looks so pissed that neither of us do anything, which only makes her angrier.

"Well?" she asks impatiently and crosses her arms.

"It's nothing, Grandma," Aryll answers quietly. "We're just talking."

I'm not entirely sure why Aryll's dishonest, but I don't do anything because then I might have to mention Talo, and I don't know how Aryll will take that.

"You think it's nothing that this family is falling apart?" Grandma snaps. I swallow a lump in my throat and my face becomes hot with the shame I know is bound to come. Grandma rarely ever scolds us, but when she does she can slice us up with just her words. This time, however, Grandma has truly had enough. Her eyes are dark with misery and sleeplessness and her wrinkles make her face sag. Raising her voice, she continues furiously, "You think it's nothing that we never eat together anymore? Or that you two – once the closest siblings in all of Hyrule – don't even look at each other?"

Her voice breaks for a moment and her glassy eyes become watery. Aryll steps forward and whispers, "Grandma" in a warning tone, but the elderly woman brushes her off with a sharp glare.

"No, Aryll," she says with strength. "I am tired of watching you two abandon each other because you're both incapable of solving your own problems. So this is what is going to happen: first, Aryll, you are going to get over yourself and forgive your brother. You need to accept that he made a mistake and you need to accept his apology and then you need to move past your grudge and help him. You can mope all you want but it isn't doing anybody any good, and I am done waiting for you to realize this yourself so I am telling you that right now, _now_, you will grow up and move on."

Aryll's mouth is agape and she's staring at Grandma with a mix of awe, shame, and fear. Grandma turns her raging gaze to me and even though she's half my size I feel tinier than a baby as she points her bony, accusing finger at me.

"Second, Link, you're going to stop all this self-loathing you've been doing. This is a bit harder than Aryll's but you have to promise me that you are going to get over this depression, because baby I cannot bear to see you look so sad all the time. You were a wonderful boy and I will not let you die from guilt and self-pity."

She pauses for a moment and blinks a few times to clear her eyes. With a deep breath, she turns to both of us and concludes with:

"And from now on every night we have dinner together. I don't care if you have plans with friends or something else, you two are both going to come every night and set the table and then we are going to eat and we are going to talk – Link don't look at me like that you know what I mean – we are going to _communicate_ to each other about what happened that day and we are going to like it. Do you understand!?"

We nod vigorously, both of us too scared to even think about arguing with her. She glances between us then gives a curt nod with a pleased, "Good" and marches out of the room, leaving us in an uncomfortable silence.

I glance at Aryll and her face is red with shame and anger. She won't look at me but her eyes are tearing up. Deciding to give her some time to think on it, I leave and shut her door behind me.

A scolding from Grandma always hurts the most. I know I've done something wrong when the sweetest woman on Earth rebukes me, though I can tell she isn't as upset with me as she is with Aryll. Despite this, I am still shaken by the strength of her words. I'm more worried, however, about the idea that has been in my head since I saw Rusl. It's a frightening idea, even though it's the right idea, and after what Grandma said to me I know that I need to do it, but first I should run it by her.

Walking down the stairs, I find her sitting on the stained floral couch as she polishes tarnished silver dishes, a thing she does only when she's stressed. She looks up at the sound of my approach and watches me sit down beside her.

"_I have an…idea_," I begin with slow, cautious gestures.

Placing her dish down, she folds her hands in her lap and stares at me, silently beckoning me to continue.

"_Even though you say the accident was not my fault, I still think it is, and I have a way of fixing it…at least part of it."_

I pause.

"_I want to help pay for Colin's medical bills, and I mean really pay and not give a couple hundred bucks. I want to sell anything I do not need and maybe even put off going to college for a few years so that I can get a job and get enough money – "_

"You don't want to go to college?" Grandma interrupts with a strange mix of shock and sorrow. She blinks owlishly and I worry I've done something wrong.

"_I do, but not yet. I did the math and I have to delay going so I can focus on paying off the damage I've caused._"

Grandma falls silent and she stares at her crinkled, bony hands that are curled together in her lap. I want to tell her that I'm scared because this wasn't part of the plan. The plan was like any other kid's plan – graduate high school, go to college, graduate college, get a job, be happy – but be-guilty-of-friend's-coma was never part of that, and now everything I've been preparing for is in shambles. Grandma was right in that I've been moping around for too long, and now I am actually doing something to try to fix the wrongs I've done, but that doesn't make it any less scary.

Without looking at me she slowly places her tiny, frail hand over mine. Her fingers shift a few times, making my skin tingle, and then she says in an airy voice,

"You don't have to do this."

But we both know that's a lie, because even though I'd much rather try to move past all this shit as fast as possible I have to slow down and reconcile. If I don't then I can never say I'm not one of those morons that Aryll talked about. I can never be free, and so I have to do this.

Grandma gets it, though she's scared too, but I gently entwine my fingers with her and she sighs. I kiss the back of her hand and suddenly it feels as though stones have been removed from my heart and I'm twenty pounds lighter.

* * *

As the week goes by there's a notable change in our house. Each night we eat dinner together where I use sign language, Grandma translates, and Aryll responds without animosity in her voice. The words are kind and polite but the feelings are tense and awkward. Aryll only looks at me when she has to, and when she does her gaze is a wild swarm of mixed emotions. Clearly she doesn't know what to think of me now, but I'm just happy that we're talking again. Well, kinda.

Things with Zelda, on the other hand, are not improving. She hasn't responded to any of my texts and she isn't at our meeting spot on both Tuesday and Thursday. I wait for an hour each day but she never shows, and by Thursday night I am sufficiently worried. Her absence makes me more irritable than normal (which means I am super irritable). Even the weather seems effected by my loss; winds are cold, strong, and frequent, the trees are now barren of leaves, and the sky is so covered in clouds it looks like a stone slab has roofed the city. Winter is coming and nature is dying as a consequence. It makes my worry for Colin – and now Zelda – more intense than before.

I wake up on Friday morning to the loud hum of rain pounding on the roof. Already a puddle has formed on the floor where water continuously drips from the cracked ceiling. I sit up and look outside the window, but a waterfall surging from our gutters obstructs my view and, flopping back down on the bed, I decide that I will not go to school today.

Grandma gives me a bit of a hard time but the rain makes her hip ache and she's already running late for work at the bakery, so instead of arguing with me she rushes out of the house. Aryll follows soon after and then I'm left alone with just the rain for company.

I manage to make myself wait till nine before I slip on my green raincoat and run to the bus stop. Though I do my best to avoid the rain at all costs by traveling under awnings and sprinting across open spaces, I'm still soaked by the time I board the bus, and I remain wet all the way to Zelda's front door.

Ringing the doorbell, I expect Impa, Zelda, or one of Zelda's personalities to open the door. I don't expect a bald, rotund man with a thick white beard and matching eyebrows to greet me. His eyes are an intense crystal blue, as pure as glacier water, and they are surrounded by wrinkles and shadows that give him a permanent expression of exhaustion and depression. Even when he smiles he looks as if he's ready to topple over and parish. He reminds me too much of Rusl. Goddesses, I hope I don't start sobbing again.

"Can I help you?" He asks softly in a smooth, baritone voice.

"_Do you know sign language?_" I ask, and when his thick eyebrows scrunch together in confusion I get my answer. I quickly pull my notebook out and write neatly, _Hi, I am Link. Is Zelda available?_

When I show it to him he does a double take and blinks a few times.

"You're Link?" he says with what I hope is pleasant surprise. "Zelda has told me much about you. Please come in."

I step inside and a butler or something (can butlers be female?) rushes forward and takes my coat from me. The door slams shut and I'm surrounded by a sterile home that lacks any personal touches. With his pinstriped suit and silk red tie this man clearly fits in with the ornate home, but I just can't imagine Zelda liking these prison-like white walls. A golden chandelier hangs above us but the lights aren't on, thus leaving us to stand in a misty grayness that drains the color out of everything in the room.

Stretching his hand out, he forces a grin and introduces himself in what appears to be a permanently strained, gentle voice. "I'm Daphnes Harkarian, Zelda's father. It's a pleasure to meet you."

I shake his hand and smile in return.

"Would you like something to drink?"

Shaking my head, I write, _No thank you. I'm just here to see Zelda. Is she okay?_

He hesitates, and that pause of uncertainty sends alarms ringing in my head.

"Physically Zelda is fine….she's actually in her room right now, but mentally…mentally she is not doing well."

Shit.

_Shit_. This cannot be good. Why didn't I come earlier? Why why why why…

"Impa…" he mumbles as he glances uneasily around the room. I watch him bite his lip and stare blankly at the door in deep thought before he tries again in that same downtrodden, tired voice. "You see, Impa told me that you care for Zelda and that you could be trusted….and so I am going to tell you something that I hope you will keep to yourself. As a political figure and a father of a child with a serious disease, we like to keep our privacy."

I nod. I nod so quickly I am surprised my head doesn't snap off and roll away.

He doesn't speak right away, but looks to the side in contemplation. His face sags, his eyes droop, and even his beard seems to limp. Aside from Rusl I've never seen a more broken man.

"A few years back the hospital connected Zelda with a boy from Termina who also had Multiple Personality Disorder," he explains slowly and his blue eyes become dazed as he remembers the past, making them look as lifeless as ice. "His name was Cou. Zelda and him emailed regularly so that they could support each other and not feel so alone, but while Zelda made progress Cou just….he just got so much worse. A few months into their online relationship he had to be transferred to a mental hospital because one of his personalities – a very cruel, disturbed personality by the name of Majora – tried to kill himself. Cou had many dangerous, broken personalities that make Zelda's harmless in comparison. The one that is stuck in my memory is Skull Kid. He was a young boy who insisted that he was lost and dying. When they asked what he was dying of he said loneliness."

Zelda's father pauses to take a deep, shuddering breath and he blinks back tears. I feel the urge to tell him to stop because I already have a feeling where this is going, but I find myself hanging from his every word and he continues without prompting.

"Despite Cou's worsening situation, he was always optimistic for Zelda. About a month ago, Cou had a breakthrough. He remembered what happened to him that caused his brain to create these personalities in the first place, but he didn't tell Zelda what it was. We all knew, though, that whatever it was must have been terribly, horribly painful. He insisted that he was okay and that he glad he finally remembered, because it meant he was close to being healed, but then…but then his emails became stagnated and when he did respond they were short and vague, and last Friday…last Friday we received news that Cou had committed suicide by jumping off the hospital's roof. Nobody knows if it was Cou that was in control or Majora, but either way the disorder killed him. Either Cou was driven mad by the trauma that he finally remembered, or Majora was successful in what he tried to do for years."

He sighs, and the whole room seems to deflate with it. There is no light or shadow in the foyer, just a bleak grayness that seeps out of his every pore and dissolves into everything around him. The pounding rain mixed with our heavy silence is one of the saddest dirges I've ever heard.

He looks at me now and finishes in his slow, breathless voice, "Zelda has an aggressive personality, too. His name is Sheik, and his ultimate goal is to find my wife's murderer and kill him. So, you see, Sheik is not nearly as awful as Majora since he never tries to destroy Zelda, but he is very dangerous to other people. Last Friday, when we heard about Cou's death, Sheik instantly overcame Zelda and she went missing for three days. Don't be alarmed, this happens somewhat frequently and Impa is always capable of tracking her down. She's fine, thank goddesses, but she's spent all week either in her room or at therapy. Though she's been in and out of various personalities, Sheik has yet to resurface."

Clearing his throat, he stands up a bit straighter and some strength returns to his sagging face. "And so you must understand, Link, that Zelda is unlike any other girl. I am constantly worried about her. I don't trust many people to get close to her, but she seems to like you and Impa even suggested that when you finally did come by – and she suspected that you would – that I should let you visit Zelda and see if you can help her in anyway. I've informed you of the situation, and now it's your turn to decide: you can either go up the stairs to her room and possibly encounter a sobbing girl or a potentially rude, dangerous, childish, or cold persona, or you can go home and sleep it off."

Underneath his words, I can hear what he's really asking: _is she worth all this trouble to you?_

I understand why Zelda's father is a politician now. His steady, intimidating gaze and calm, sympathetic voice make me anxious and concerned, and I have an overwhelming urgency to prove to him that I can do what he wants. What he wants is for me to help his daughter, and he's thinking that the best way for me to do that is to leave Zelda alone, but I know that's not right. I promised that I'd be her friend, and friends have to be able to handle mentally unbalanced, potentially suicidal moods, right?

Yes, even though my hands are sweating and trembling from dread and fear and I doubt I'll be much help, the answer is yes. I remind myself of this as I march up the stairs, the soft _thuds_ of my footsteps adding to this dirge, and down the corridor. Yes. She is worth the trouble, the terror, the sleepless nights, the constant worry. Yes.

Impa stands guard outside her door. I half expect her to smile at me, to show some hint of pride that I did as she suspected, but her face remains stoic and she steps out of the way without a glance in my direction.

_Yes_ I think and open the door.

Her room looks like every drawer, every pocket, every bag, and every crack barfed all their contents onto her floor. Gothic dresses, ripped shirts, pink cardigans, leather pants, and jean shorts are spread across the room like a blanket, and on top of this sheet of strewn clothes are books of every genre, photographs of every subject, mix CDs of every artist, and papers of every size. There are a few random items as well, such as empty soda cans and wilted flowers and old birthday cards, which are all placed around the room without thought. I imagine a hurricane busted through the window, ripped the floral curtains off their racks, and then sucked up every object and threw it around until the room represented a dump of Zelda.

The door shuts with a gentle click and the girl in question doesn't move from her spot along the windowsill. She sits with her long legs curled up underneath her and with her head pressed against the water-washed glass. Her blonde hair falls around her shoulders in a mix of waves, curls, and pin straight tresses. Her loose dress is as black as coals and elegantly drapes around her curves, making her skin look as pale as bones.

I carefully traverse my way across the room until I'm standing right behind her. She doesn't move. I sit beside her on the padded windowsill. She still doesn't move. Her sky blue eyes are glued to the rain that falls heavy like rocks on the world below and the movements cast flickering shadows across her stony face.

"I suppose you won't leave until I talk to you," she says with a sigh, though her eyes remain glued to the rain. "Well, what do you wish to hear from me? Come on, tell me and I'll say it right back to you, and then you can leave me."

Aside from a nervous shift I don't do anything. Though the answer may be yes I don't know how to go about this consoling business. I was hoping I could just hold her and she'd cry, but this…

"Well?" she snaps and she finally looks at me with cold, red-rimmed eyes. For a few seconds she glares, but when I don't do anything she huffs with irritation and averts her eyes back to the window. "You mutes sure don't talk much," she grumbles, and I'm not sure if that was supposed to be a joke or not. "Now I'll have to do all the talking."

She sighs again and brushes a few strands of hair from her face.

"You don't know much about death, but I do. I've studied it and I've experienced it. Did you know I am dying? I mean, you must know because we are all dying, we are all constantly surging straight to an inevitable end whether it be from a car or from disease or from our idiotic friends who thought jumping off a rustic tower was a good idea, but I am dying in more ways than one….Oh, you look stricken. I'm so sorry…I'm sorry you're still so easily affected by life's truths. Get over it. Buck up and move on."

Is this what Zelda really thinks of me? Am I even talking to Zelda anymore? I'm too stunned to even attempt an argument.

She looks at me, but this time her gaze is thoughtful and intelligent rather than annoyed. Pensively, she asks, "Do you remember the flood that happened in Sikah Republic six years ago? Probably not, maybe you didn't even hear about it, but I'm not surprised. A million people drowned, after all, and yet nobody talks about it. I never saw anybody weep. Even now when I think about it and read various reports of the destruction I do not cry. Are you crying? No. And why is that? Try to imagine a million people floating, face down, lifeless in a body of water as small as Kakariko. What do they look like? They'd have to be the size of ants to fit in your imagination, maybe even smaller, and here I am, mourning the loss of one boy who was more detrimental to society than beneficial. The nature of grief and death is impractical and bewildering."

She returns her gaze to the window whereas I just stare at her with my mouth hanging open in dumbstruck awe and stupidity. Yep, I was not prepared to handle this type of grief.

With unsure, clumsy movements, I sign, _"Maybe numbers don't matter. Maybe it's who dies that matter."_

She reads me with an almost dismissive glance and responds in a weary tone, "Yes, your connection to the deceased is a major factor in how much you grieve, but imagine if everybody you knew died this very second. Would you miss every single one of them? Or just a few? Maybe the number is too great and you'd feel nothing more than just a slight ache in your chest?"

"_I'd miss you_," I sign hesitantly and she releases a bitter chuckle at that.

"Oh no, you'd miss Zelda, not me, but even then you'd get over her eventually, which is what you should do, but can you imagine death, Link? Can you imagine the world forgetting your name? I've heard it said that a person dies twice: when their heart stops and when their name is spoken for the last time."

I look past her morbid, depressing thoughts, and focus on the use of third person. _You'd miss Zelda._ That means she must be Death, the personality who is cynical, obsessed with dying, and very philosophical. It's a strange relief knowing that this isn't Zelda who is being so callous with me, but at the same time I wonder if she really thinks these thoughts.

"_Can Zelda come out?"_

"You'd rather listen to the sobs of a thoughtless, emotionally-driven girl than to my explanation of the nature of decay and the meaning of life?" She retorts with derision and a nasty glare.

"_Yes, but maybe another time we can discuss the nature of decay and the meaning of life."_

"Hm, depends on what I'm feeling that day," she replies with a shrug. "Maybe the afterlife is a better subject suited for your naivety."

I nod, ignoring the insult, and she leans against the glass again and closes her eyes. Five minutes or so pass and I simply watch her back rise and fall with each breath that clouds the windowpane. Her eyes flutter. Her fingers twitch. She looks at me and I know Zelda has returned.

Her eyebrows furrow together in confusion and her lips part, my name on the tip of her tongue, but then realization washes over her and her expression slowly slips into one of weary sorrow. For a minute we don't move and only stares at me with eyes that are wise beyond her years. Without a word she twists in her seat until her back is partly pressed against the window and partly pressed against my shoulder. We mesh together seamlessly. Her head rests against my shoulder, my arms circle around her body, and her thigh is pressed against mine. She doesn't speak for a long time. We just sit together and listen to the endless rain. After awhile though, I grab a small pad of paper and with my arms still around her I write,

_I'm sorry about Cou_.

I don't know if it's the right thing to do, but she shifts around and replies with a sigh,

"Yeah…me, too."

_Your dad is very nice, _I write, and I know it's random but what else should I do?

"Hmm," she hums. "He worries a lot, rightfully so."

I have no idea what I'm doing.

_Will you be okay?_

She doesn't respond right away.

"I don't know."

I press a soft kiss to the top of her head. She shifts closer to me.

"The worst part…" she whispers in a shaking, scared voice. "The worst part is that I relied on him so much, because even though he had it much worse he was so optimistic that he gave me hope, and now…. Now I wonder if there's a reason we have the disorder in the first place. It's meant to protect us from facing reality, and though I hate not being in control of my body, the truth might be too painful…"

I place my hand over her hand and she sinks into me. A surge of protectiveness rushes through my body and I hold her tighter.

"Have you ever heard of Martha Stout? Probably not. She's a psychologist who works with people like me…people whose brains develop ways of repressing trauma through different disorders. In one of her essays, Stout describes our mental state as being trapped inside your house during a snowstorm with the power out. It's cold and dark and you're completely alone, and even if you huddle under every single blanket in your house you still feel numb."

She takes a deep breath in a useless attempt to stop her rambling, but she keeps going as if it's out of her control.

"And your house that was once so warm and comforting now feels like a tomb, and if the storm continues for much longer you might die from the cold. So you head to the fuse box in the basement, and you realize you could turn the power back on if you replace the wiring with some copper, but if the wiring of the house is overloaded then doing so might cause a fire. If you do fix the wiring then you'll spend all night on edge, too scared to fall asleep because you might not notice the fire until it's too late. If you don't fix the wiring, however, you might die a slow, numbing death. You have to decide then. Either sit in the frozen darkness and listen to the wail of the wind and rattle of ice, or try to feel more human and make things warm and comfortable but risk calamity and howling pain. Either sabotage the fuse box, or don't."

She hesitates before continuing. Her fingers slip in between mine and my thumb gently passes over hers in a comforting caress. For the short time that she's silent she allows the metaphor to sink in, and it's a terrifying metaphor, because there is no guarantee for safety. Doing nothing is a risk in itself, and doing something could just bring a more painful end.

"Cou sabotaged the fuse box," she mumbles, and her previous surge of strength has been replaced with fear and melancholy. "And his house burned to a crisp. What will happen if I sabotage the fuse box?"

_I don't know_, I slowly write in long, letters that slope and twirl together. _What happens if you don't?_

"I'll waste away," she replies in hushed tones. "I know that I have to sabotage the fuse box, because my life isn't even mine, it belongs to somebody else, but that doesn't mean I'm not scared."

Her voice is so quiet that I can barely hear it over the rain. She presses into me, her face pressed against my heart. "I'm so, so scared," she says in a broken whisper.

The next minute, hour, day, month, or however long I am there for is spent with me brushing the hair out of her face as I hold her close. Her body shivers and curls with the effort of restraining tears. Stroking her head, I imagine her fuse box whirring and stirring beneath my fingers. I imagine it as a complicated system of circling wires of blackness and light. I imagine sparks that are dangerously large dancing along the edges. I imagine it as a beautiful terrifying mess, one that needs just a little bit of tweaking to save it from destruction.

After the minute, hour, day, month or whatever has passed and she's no longer on the brink of tears, I reach out and grab her iPod off her desk. I flick through the screens and get to her mental playlist. Turning up the volume, I click play and "Lost In My Mind" by The Head and the Heart cuts through the humming of rain with welcome relief.

The corners of Zelda's mouth twitch up into a smile and that tiny act makes my heart soar. We listen to the opening and first verse in silence, simply allowing the upbeat song to thaw away the melancholy. By the second verse I begin mouthing the words. Zelda looks up at me and watches with fondness and a lingering sadness. Tapping my finger to the beat, I continue to mouth the words and I hope I'm not making a fool of myself, but if Zelda's smiling then it doesn't really matter.

Zelda comes in at the chorus and I blast the song. She bobs her head along with the tune as she sings along. I hadn't expected her to be so out of tune, but it seems more of a virtue than a flaw and my heart swells in a way I can't describe.

After the second verse and another round of the chorus, we're completely into it. Our bodies become instruments. We swing our shoulders together and bounce our heads around as our fingers drum on whatever is closest. When the final verse comes around she jumps up and pulls me after her. Still singing along, she grabs my hands and then immediately leads me into a crazy dance of twirling and jumping. I like to think of it as Zelda's Multiple Personality Swing and Stomp dance moves. We spin around and tap our feet and cross our arms and wave our hands and swing our hair and entwine our fingers until the song ends with a final, empowering note. Two seconds of silence follow where we just look at each other and smile. In those two seconds I see that the sadness is still there, but our growing sense of hope is shining brighter than the fear and sorrow. The next song – JD McPherson's jazzy "North Side Gal" – begins with a bang and we're up again. We sing and laugh and dance for all we're worth. I imagine that if somebody saw us we'd look like complete lunatics: a mute guy mouthing the words with way too much enthusiasm, a girl who can't sing shouting the lyrics to the sky, and two clumsy bodies swinging and stomping around a trashed room.

I imagine they'd see a beautiful mess.

* * *

_Author's Note_

_So. Tired. But lots to discuss._

_First I want to mention a few references: much of Death's dialogue (Zelda's alternate personality) was based off of Annie Dillard's "The Wreck of Time" (I highly recommend you guys go read that, it's short), and Martha Stout's essay "When I Woke Up Tuesday, It Was Friday" has that great metaphor about the snowstorm and the fuse box that I love so much (read that story too). And of course I had some songs in there (Lost in My Mind makes another appearance!)._

_I am trying really hard to update weekly. There will be grammatical errors and I apologize. There will also be other errors, which I apologize for, but I am hoping you don't notice those. : )_

_Thanks to __**Generala **__who showed me how to change my Tumblr name (thank God), the url has been changed to: wavewood. tumblr. Com (remove spaces)._

_Now to some special thanks: I want to give a huge thank you to my good friend __**Canada Cowboy **__for helping me out so much with the plot and such for this story. In this chapter CC suggested that Grandma play a more active role in rebuilding the family and that Link get some redemption by providing compensation for Colin's family. So thank you CC!_

_Another special thanks goes to __**Masterday **__who gave me her personal experience and knowledge of therapy and mental disorders. There is nothing specific here to link her to, but I wanted to make sure that I express my gratitude even if I don't apply why she told me. Thank you Masterday!_

_And now thanks to everybody else for your awesome, supportive, and skeptical (lots of you were concerned about Talo, and for good reason ahahaha) reviews! Thank you __**James Birdsong, Yanner, Canada Cowboy, Linkforever125, Sparkling-Iris, SweetCarnation, Miss Ashlynn, The Supreme, sslamajama97, ShadowNinja1011, burning book, The Phoenix Flower, Hummingbird-95, The Super Twins, PotterAllTheWay64, AngelicParadox91, A Shadow's Lament, Kamil the Awesome, BlueFrenchHorn97, Masterday, ScarlettAlexandra, KaChan84, aipatchi, Generala, Sparxthehdgehog, Guest, R. Recollect, Jogman74, Sun-Wind Dragon, **__and __**hylianprincessZ! **__Damn, dat is a lot of reviews. Aw yis!_

_Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!_

_~~Wave~~_


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Updated July 19th, 2013

* * *

The day it happens it snows for the first time in two years. It's a light snow that dissolves when it touches the ground, and it makes the sky a luminous white and the streets seem brighter because of it. It's a Sunday, a cold one at that, and everybody hides indoors under blankets, drinking tea, watching mindless television, reading somewhat interesting books, or scrolling through the Internet. The day it happens is a boring, normal, cold, damp Sunday, and so when Aryll rushes down the stairs in a storm of whirling arms and unkempt hair, she's like a clap of thunder in the middle of the night. She frantically pulls on her boots and coat and continuously rams her shoulder into the wall due to her lack of balance, but she's grinning madly. After months of dreariness and bitterness, watching her be so alive feels unreal.

She flings the front door open and the bitter wind blows her loose hair back but she blissfully ignores it. Nothing about her is composed – only one side of her faded t-shirt is tucked into her jeans and her socks aren't even close to matching – yet it's obvious she has willingly abandoned any composure. Right before she steps out, she looks over her shoulder at Grandma and me and says in such simple words it seems impossible for them to hold any weight,

"Colin's awake."

She closes the door and runs away.

My mind comes to a stumbling halt.

It's trying to think, to feel relieved, but it can't accept this truth because one moment I'm trudging through some tedious physics homework and the next the world is alight with color again. It's like swimming through sticky, heavy syrup toward a pool of fresh clean water, and I can see it but despite all my efforts it's so hard to get to, and when I finally do the syrup and water mix together and cloud my vision. There is hope and calmness and relief and joy and smiles and hugs and life and my mind cannot grasp the concept. Colin is awake? Colin is alive? Was there no warning? Did he see the first snowfall and decide that he wants to wake up for some hot chocolate?

I am vaguely aware of the pencil falling from my limp hand as I collapse back into the couch. With my mouth agape, I stare up at the cracked, yellowed ceiling in awe. Slowly my mind begins to thaw. The feelings I should've felt instantly seep out of my heart and swim throughout my body. First my fingers and toes tingle with delight, then my legs and arms are ready to burst with newfound energy, and finally my lungs fill up with so much relief and happiness I will surely drown. Without realizing it I am grinning and laughing and I see the snowflakes as beautiful, pure substances and the house is orange and yellow and pink with warmth and love. Beside me Grandma is crying tears of joy and we hug, because Nayru, Din, and Farore, he's going to be okay and I'm going to be okay because I did not kill him and Rusl will keep his son and Aryll will have her boyfriend and even Talo must be happy, though I have no idea if he'll admit it.

I text Zelda the news and she calls me. She apologies for calling because she knows there is no way I will be able to respond but she insists that she has to express her joy and texting simply fails to capture her feelings. I want to tell her that neither does the phone (her words string together into a blabber of excited static and the poor reception cuts out her cheers), but I listen to her with a smile. She tells me that if she didn't have therapy she'd rush over to the hospital with me right now, but she's not allowed to skip out. I text her that it's fine and I'll give her more updates later.

Although I desperately want to go to Colin right now and see for myself that he's awake, I hold out so that his family can have time with him. I hadn't expected the waiting to be so painful, though. My brain vacillates between mind-numbing shock and overwhelming joy. I need to see him. I need to know that this isn't a dream that he is alive alive alive alive that I did not kill him that he is awake and thus alive and what does this mean for me is everything okay is everything done?

A part of me, perhaps the paranoid, permanently cynical part, says no, everything is not done. There is still much, much more to be done. And so after waiting till visiting hours are nearly over, I hop on the bus and drive to the hospital. From the front door of my house to the door of his room my heart flutters and my stomach rolls with nerves and excitement and fear, because, dear goddesses, what happens now?

I step out of the elevator and my legs threaten to give out on me. Even from all the way down the corridor I can see his door propped open. The lights are on. They've always been on, of course, but now he might be using them to read my letter. As I walk on unsteady feet towards his room, I notice that baskets of flowers, fruit, and muffins are already waiting outside his door for his now active hands and digestive system. I am reminded again of how well liked Colin is. Even with zero signs of recovery he maintained a steady stream of gifts whereas I barely got any. It's all very dumb, though. Dumb for me to obsess over such material possessions and dumb for me to have once thought that I was more popular than Colin. How dumb of Colin to think he needed me to help him make friends when he was clearly better off without me. My last thought before I enter his room is how dumb we all are.

Rusl, who is standing beside the bed with one of the doctors, sees me right away and says something, but I don't hear it. My whole body is fixed on Colin. I expected him to be sitting up in bed with a smile of relief or an expression of confusion for having been asleep for months, but he is neither of these things. He looks the same as when I last saw him. His body is lifeless and disturbingly pale, his mouth hangs open, and wires and tubes curl in and around him like worms. The only difference is that his eyes are slightly open, as if he is frozen halfway through a blink. His grey irises are dazed and clearly _not awake._

My footsteps echo in the now silent room as I trudge towards him. I'm waiting for him to turn his head and look at me, to tell me to get out, to say hi, to twitch a finger, but nothing happens. I can feel all the happiness and hope plummeting away. This is awake? How is this awake?

A hand gently brushes my shoulder and my head snaps towards Rusl. He's smiling despite the tears and understanding in his eyes. He's so hopeful even though his son looks like a corpse.

"Link…" he says in his airy, weak voice. "The doctor was just informing me of Colin's situation once more. Would you like to hear?"

I'm too shocked to respond. My gaze slowly leaves Rusl's face to return to Colin's, but halfway there I notice another person is in the room. Uli. Colin's mother. Rusl's wife.

She's a bit plumper than I remember her to be. Her cheeks are rounder and her hips seem wider, but maybe that's because her unflattering blue dress is lumpy and clings to all the wrong places. I rarely see her, so when I do I am always struck by the similarity between her and Colin. They share the same flaxen hair, which swoops around her head into a messy, careless bun. The structure of her face is soft and pale just like Colin's, with a ski jump nose and a round, elegant chin. Her eyes, however, are remarkable. They're a powerful, angry, protective grey, like the ocean on a cloudy day. Rusl had mentioned that Uli had said she was going to sue me and try to get me arrested, but she failed to make the call. Looking at her now, I find that hard to believe.

The doctor begins to speak and I avert my gaze to Colin's limp face, but it doesn't make me feel any better.

"I'm happy to announce that Colin has shown signs of breaking out of his coma," she says in a professionally crafted cheerful yet serious voice. "This is excellent news, and you should all be relieved, but I must warn you that we are not out of the woods yet. Colin was in a coma for a long period of time and so his body has been inactive, which may have residual effects on his various systems. So far we have found no signs of brain damage but that could change within the upcoming weeks. We will be checking on every part of his body – his kidneys, muscles, liver, heart, brain, lungs, colon, nerves, eyes, pancreas…

My vision blurs for a second. We're not done yet.

"Recovery is a long process. Though Colin is technically awake, it may be a few weeks before he will regain bodily function, and this includes speech. As I said before, we will be constantly monitoring him for any signs of trouble. Waking up from a coma is half the battle of recovery, but do not let the possibilities deter your relief. This is a very good sign, Rusl and Uli, and you two should allow yourself to be hopeful."

The doctor pauses to allow all the information to sink in. Out of the corner of my eye I see Rusl nod and smile while Uli continues to stare at me. I try to ignore her but she makes the room ten degrees colder and my throat aches. The doctor continues to talk about some therapy they will do once Colin improves some more and how they'll need somebody to stay with Colin even when he's home, but I tune the rest out. I thought we could finally move on…but there's still so much in the way.

I leave in the middle of the doctor's speech. As I walk down the hallway my legs feel as heavy as led and my head is dizzy with these emotional swings. Stepping into the elevator, I release a long sigh and close my eyes.

The elevator is about to move when the door comes to a grinding halt. I snap my eyes open to see Uli slipping into the elevator and slamming her finger on the Close Doors button. The harsh lighting of the elevator casts dark, intimidating shadows that make her eyes look like empty sockets and the worry lines near her small mouth much more prominent.

The moment the door slides shut her placid mask slips and her fury shows. Her neatly plucked eyebrows knit together to form a curvy V and her mouth dips into a frown. Crossing her arms, she speaks calmly but her words are fierce, like ice sliding down my back.

"Rusl doesn't want to put any charges against you, but I do," she says in a tense, bitter voice with strength I never thought she possessed. "Though he thinks otherwise, I have contacted a lawyer and he's given me advice as to what to do."

She gives me no time to respond and all I can do is stare at her in shock and she accosts me. Holding her head high, she pins me with her glare and states coldly, "I want you in jail, Link. I want your money, despite how little you have, and I want you to lose precious time of your life just as Colin has lost his. However…Rusl and I have agreed to let Colin decide what he wants to happen to you, but know this, Link: I will encourage him to prosecute you and sue you. I may have liked you in the past, but he is my son, my baby, and I do not take this lightly. I cannot forgive you for nearly killing him, for taking months of his life, and for any possible damages that may come of it. My family has endured too much suffering, and I demand that justice will be dealt."

The elevator dings and the door slides open. Her emotionless mask returns. Without a word she steps aside and gestures to the opening, granting (demanding) my leave. It takes me a moment to process her movements and then I slowly step out.

The door slides shut and the elevator rises away. I stand for a second or two and then stumble to a nearby chair. My legs finally give out.

* * *

Without thinking much about it I find myself walking to the psychiatric hospital, and somehow I decide that even though Zelda will be in therapy for another hour I'll wait for her to be done so that she can help me, because, oh goddesses, I am falling apart. Colin should've been awake but he looks no different than before, and I know I should be hopeful and optimistic but I can't fight this overwhelming sense of despair and now I get to add fear to my piggy bank of feelings. I always knew that if Colin ever woke up he might sue me, but it was something I had ignored, and now Uli has made the threat real and shit I feel as though I'm suffocating, like my throat has been ripped out and there's nothing between my jaw and collarbone but a bloody mess and I think I am going to be sick…

Exhausted, I clumsily sit on a plastic bench right outside Zelda's therapist's door. I stare at the floor and take deep, shuddering breaths. Am I so selfish to be worrying about myself more than Colin? Have I not changed at all? And why does Uli have to be so keen on punishing me? I've suffered enough! I lost all my old friends, my sister hates me, I am constantly burdened by my guilt, and I'm a fucking mute! Isn't that enough? Isn't it?

The sound of approaching footsteps stops my train of thought. I look up to find Dr. Gaebora standing before me. Briefcase in hand and wool coat over his brown suit, he's clearly on his way out, yet he stares at me with owlish amber eyes and with his head cocked to the side.

Our therapy sessions have been improving – I tell him about my day, my worries, my childhood, typical therapy stuff – and I might even say he's been helpful. Seeing him now…maybe I could use a therapist. I've never admitted it before, but I actually might need one…

"Would you like to come to my office?" He asks as if he's reading my mind. I nod without a second thought.

I walk with him in a disoriented daze. The windows cast dull, blue shadows as the snow falls faster and faster. For a moment I wonder if there is a soccer game happening now, and if so I wonder how they're doing in this weather. How silly it is to be kicking a ball around and taking it so seriously. How stupid.

Gaebora unlocks his door and flicks his office lights on. Without any prompting I sit in the plush green chair, and the familiar texture and cushioning is oddly comforting. He sits across from me and his body instantly snaps into therapist mode: he crosses his legs, his hands are held together in his lap, his head tilts a bit to the side, and his wide ochre eyes gaze at me with immense focus and consideration.

"What's on your mind, Link?"

Usually it takes some prompting on his part to get me to participate, but I immediately respond in a flurry of hand motions. I explain my recent decision to provide Colin with compensation, his "awakening," and Uli's threat. For once I am completely honest. I tell him how I had felt so hopeful and rejuvenated when I finally decided to pay back Colin's family for the damages I've done, and how I thought all my problems would end with Colin waking up, but they seem to have only worsened.

"So how are you feeling now?" he asks once I've finished my quick plot summary, and though his tone is casual there is purpose behind it.

"_Terrified_," I sign. "_Confused. Sad….I am unsure."_

"Well let's split these two instances up," he says calmly as he leans forward in his chair. His eyes narrow with concentration and I feel like a jig-saw puzzle, but unlike before I am willing to let him rearrange me and put me back together. "Colin. He's recovering, and yet you don't seem happy about it."

"_I am happy!" _I reply instantly._ "I mean, when I first heard he was awake I was the happiest I have been in months, but then when I got there he was still asleep and _awake_ meant _showing signs of recovery_ and there are still so many problems he might be facing that I…I guess I had high expectations that were brought down by reality."_

"So you understand that this is good news. Colin will likely wake up in a few weeks." He states rather cryptically.

"_But he could still relapse. He might not make it."_

"Hope, Link," he interrupts with a slight smile that makes his cheeks crinkle. "Hope is very important in times like these."

I look to the floor and hang my head a bit. There is a lapse of comfortable silence between us which I spend trying steady my whirring brain.

"Let's discuss Uli," he says after a minute. "What do you think of her for threatening you with legal action?"

I find the question a little strange and I peer up at him with curiosity. When he shows no sign of further explanation, I respond with slow, careful gestures, "_I do not blame her. She has good reason to want to punish me, but…I do not think I deserve it anymore."_

"Why is that?" he inquires instantly with a calm voice but his owlish eyes are blazing with intelligence.

"_Well….I am already mute, my family is unwell, and I am going to pay his family all that I can. Do I really deserve jail?"_

"Do you?"

I falter for a moment. Didn't I just say why? Ugh, therapists.

"_No," _I answer quickly.

He leans back in his chair and steeples his hands under his chin. "Think of it like this," he says. "Have you done everything you can to redeem yourself?"

My hands move on their own to sign _yes_, but my mind stops them halfway through. I feel as though my whole body stutters to a stop. Haven't I done enough? Have I done anything? Money is nice, but justice is sweeter, and that must be what Uli wants. What Colin might want.

I look at him, and when our eyes lock there is an understanding between us. His hidden messages click together in my brain and the realization of what he's saying makes me gasp.

"_Are you…" _I sign slowly as my hands tremble. "_Are you suggesting I let her arrest me? Or to turn myself in?"_

Turning myself in…that's something I never considered before, and the thought makes me shudder.

"I never said that," he replies but I can tell by a gleam in his eyes that it's the right conclusion. "You did."

"_But I could go to jail," _I answer rather helplessly, too stunned and weak to think of anything more profound than that.

"Maybe. Maybe not. I'm no expert in the field of law, but I believe that if you show signs of regret and you promise to change then your sentence can be reduced. Turning yourself in and providing compensation could shorten your time in jail, or maybe make it so you only have to pick up trash on the side of the highway instead."

My heart is pounding. It's doing flips and somersaults and crazy dance moves. I think I might hyperventilate.

"_What…what if I do not turn myself in?_"

"Then there is a good chance Uli will prosecute you." He replies with a hint of sympathy in his professional, controlled therapist voice. "But, Link, you should not do this out of fear. Do it if you truly believe it is the right thing to do."

"_I know it is the correct thing to do, but that does not mean I want to do it._"

He nods in understanding and we fall to a respite of silence again. I cradle my head in my hands, trying to tell my brain to stop for just a second so I can think straight. I think of Zelda. She never got justice. Midna never got justice.

And then I realize something.

"_It is like a fuse box and a snowstorm."_

He blinks twice and tips his head to the other side.

"So you've heard of Martha Stout," he states simply but I ignore him for the sake of giving my mind the time to connect the pieces. If I do nothing then there is a very high chance Colin's family will prosecute me and I might go to jail. If I do turn myself in then I'm doomed for punishment, but it might be less than what I would get from doing nothing. I have to sabotage the fuse box, because not only will I have a better chance of freedom, but also because it is the right course of action. How can I say I've tried my best to redeem myself if I don't take responsibility for my mistakes? How can I look at the kids in group therapy and not feel guilty for withholding another person's right to justice?

And then that must mean…that must mean I have to do it. I have to give myself to the police.

Something in my expression – probably nausea – shows Gaebora what I'm thinking. In a soothing voice, he advises, "Don't do anything right away. Take a few days to think about it, and when you've decided you can come back to me and we can discuss your options."

I nod but make no move to get up. Rubbing my face with my hands, I try to repress my growing fear but I can't. Maybe one day once all the terror is gone I'll finally feel the righteousness that should come in moments like this, but for now all I want to do is hide under my bed.

Suddenly something rough pats my knee and I look up to see Gaebora gently and somewhat awkwardly placing his hand on my leg in a comforting gesture.

"It's going to be okay, Link," he consoles as he retracts his hand but remains leaning forward, his amber eyes bright in the lamplight. "You're doing the right thing."

* * *

Zelda looks much better than when I saw her last. Her cobalt eyes are alight with keen intelligence and I can see her smiling from the other side of the restaurant. She's dressed in tight white pants and a loose navy blue top that shows a bit of shoulder, and as she slips off her black wool coat her hair sweeps to the side and the light makes it looks like gold. I watch her movements with obvious fascination as she maneuvers through the tables and approaches me. Once she gets close I smile in greeting and she gives me a little wave before plopping down in the seat across from me. There's a nervous, warm rumble in my stomach, which is either from my nerves for what I'm going to tell her or just the fact that she's a foot away from me.

Telma instantly descends upon our table in a flurry of enormous breasts, lopsided grins, and witty yet caring remarks. As soon as she leaves Zelda rests her arms against the table and leans forward.

"So," she begins with excitement. "Tell me about Colin."

It takes her half a second to realize something is wrong. She expected me to be grinning madly and bubbling with joy just as I expected Colin to be awake and active. Her smile falls and her lips part just a hair to release a disappointed breath.

"_He is showing signs of waking but he is not _awake_," _I explain with precise movements. "_It is a good thing, but there is still a danger that he may suffer damages to the brain, organs, or muscles, and he might relapse. We were told not to get our hopes up."_

There's a breath of silence before Zelda asks, "So what's the problem?"

Sighing, I sign without making direct eye contact, "_Colin's mom told me that she is going to encourage Colin to prosecute me. She wants me in jail and she wants to sue me, and I realize that she has every right to feel that way because I almost killed her son and I took months of his life away. I have spent the last two days thinking it over and I have decided that I am going to turn myself in."_

Her mouth falls open to retort, she pauses, closes her mouth, opens it again, closes it, blinks twice, looks to the table, looks back at me, and finally says, "What."

"_I talked to Gaebora about it," _I respond while ignoring the odd feeling of guilt and affection stirring in my chest. "_I have really thought about it, and I know now that I have to do this."_

"But why?" she asks with surprising volume, though it's not enough to turn any heads. "You don't have to do this. You don't need to keep punishing yourself!"

"_I am not punishing myself," _I reply, startled by her dislike for the idea. "_I am doing what is right. This is how I fix my mistakes."_

She opens her mouth once again, keen on dismissing my ideas, but she falters. Her eyebrows knit together and I think she's suddenly on the verge of tears.

"_Besides, if I do not do this then Colin's mom will likely prosecute me anyway. If I do nothing something bad will happen to me, if I do something then something bad will happen but at least I know I'll have done what is right. Do you not see? This is my fuse box."_

I thought that would have won her over but she looks horrified, though that's probably because she knows what it's like to have a ticking time bomb as a life. Her eyes are wide and fearful, like a deer in the middle of a dark road, and her face is drained of all color. She doesn't move or say anything for a full minute, which brings back some of my earlier qualms.

Finally active again, she shakes her head and wearily rubs her eyes. "Sorry," she mumbles. "You're right. You are absolutely right. I am proud of you, Link. You are…_right_."

Her voice holds none of the genuine admiration that I expected, but rather a dejected tone. I ask what's wrong through sign language and she shakes her head again.

"No, no, you really are doing the right thing," she replies with obvious reluctance while brushing her hair out of her face. "I'm sorry it's just…you know, well…. You're my best friend, Link. I don't want you to be sentenced to jail, or to lose all your money. I…"

She sighs again and rubs her face. After a second or two, she reaches across the table and places her hand over mine. My heart races when we touch and I find myself embarrassed at the thought that she might be able to hear my rapid heartbeat.

"Sorry," she says slowly with a forced smile, and the mournful glint in her eyes show she's not okay. "I'm just worried about you, but I'm proud, Link. No matter what happens you'll be able to say that you did everything you could to fix the wrongs you've done, and very few people can say that."

I nod and smile, showing my thanks through the small gestures.

"I support you, Link. Let me know and I'll do whatever I can to help," she adds while returning her hand to her side, and an internal warmth fades with it.

"_Thank you," _I sign. "_And that's good, because I do need your help."_

"With what?" she asks with a slight head tilt.

I lean across the table to convey the fact that I'd like secrecy, and then I explain.

* * *

_Author's note_

_This chapter was hard to write. :/ It's also a bit choppy, I know, but due to time constraints I posted it anyway, so sorry about that. Not my best._

_You'll notice with this chapter that Link's sign language is improving. Previously he was still rather awkward and had a limited vocabulary, but now he's more fluent. This occurrence has a metaphorical aspect to it. Any ideas?_

_Some special thanks are in order: __**Canada Cowboy **__deserves lots of credit for explaining to me the legal troubles Link would have and helping me tie them into the story. Together we worked on plot and symbolic significance of Link and the law. Also, maybe this is a spoiler, but I thought it'd be necessary to tell you all that Link won't be in jail for the rest of the story. If/when Link turns himself in he'll still be free but an investigation will occur. I'll explain more of it later in the story, just don't worry!_

_And another thanks to CC's friend __**Kelev**__ who indirectly helped me with Colin's awakening scene. As a nurse, she is well informed about comas and so all my information comes from CC, which comes from her._

_And now a grand thank you to all my lovely reviewers! I love hearing all your thoughts, whether you loved it or not, whether you found it fascinating or confusing, or whether you have some interesting plot ideas! So thank you __**NefasSegador, ShadowNinja1011, BlueFrenchHorn97, The Super Twins, DestinyPrincess, A Shadow's Lament, Yanner12, Canada Cowboy, Sparkling-Iris, SweetCarnation, The Supreme, AngelicParadox91, sslamajama97, KaChan84, Kamil the Awesome, Oblivion Star Seeker, burning book, Hummingbird-95, Linkforever125, Generala, Iliterate aghhew, The Phoenix Flower, PotterAllTheWay64, **__and__** Jogman74**__ for your awesome reviews! I am currently on a road trip so I might be a bit slower in responding, but I hope you will still review because I love feedback and I respond to all my reviews! (except for anonymous/guests and this one person who doesn't allow PM (if you never get responses from me but you are always logged in that's why).._

_Thank you!_

_~~Wave~~_


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Updated August 3rd, 2013

* * *

Zelda and I sit in a small, unfamiliar room. The lights are off and it's a moonless night, but I can still make out the shape of a guitar leaning against the wall, sports equipment littered across the floor, and a cluttered desk tucked in the corner. Band posters and Zora tribe relics decorate the walls in an odd mix of rock and roll and history. Zelda and I sit side by side on the bed, both of us too nervous too do much else. We focus on the increasing volume of noise from downstairs. The door opens. Loud greetings. A short laugh. The door closes. Cheers. More laughing. Chatter. Laughter. The noises only grow louder as more guests come in, and the sound make me nauseous.

"You sure you want to do this?" Zelda whispers, her breath tickling the side of my neck.

I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans. I don't want to do it, but I have to, and so I give a curt nod and she nods back.

As we continue to wait I try to focus on her rather than on my increasing fears. Our shoulders and legs are pressed together, and her arm occasionally brushes mine. She's got her "tough clothes" on (a pair of worn skinny jeans and a leather jacket over a white tank top) because she refuses to help me if she can't make herself look intimidating. Her ensemble is something Tetra would wear, and so I'm worried she might switch sometime tonight. She assures me she'll do her best not to.

The door opens and Mikau stands in the threshold. His tall, skinny frame and broad shoulders barely make it through the small entrance, and the light from the hallway shines on his bald scalp. Like all the other guests below, he's wearing the Kakariko High School Boy's Soccer jersey, which is as white as his skin. I had approached him the other day and told him about my plan. He agreed to help, but I could tell the idea made him uneasy. Closing the door, he steps closer to us and it's obvious the discomfort hasn't left.

"You ready?" he asks, the moonlight from the window making his usually green eyes a turquoise color.

I nod again and my stomach twists with fear.

There's a beat of silence where nobody says anything and the hesitation and dread is heavy in the air. It's so quiet I can hear Mikau swallow the lump in his throat before he says in a nervous whisper,

"Are you sure this is right?," he asks, and then continues in a rush of uncertainty. "A lot of them are like us. They never wanted to do it, they just got caught up in the moment. I mean, I know it's bad, but…it'll ruin their lives. Some of them will lose scholarships. They might not get to go to college. Do they deserve it? Do you deserve it?"

The same questions plagued me for a while, and so I am already forming the answer with my hands before he can finish.

"_We deserve punishment, but we cannot decide the severity," _I sign. "_Try to remember that we are doing something good here. Besides, an investigation will occur whether we turn ourselves in or not."_

Zelda reads my gestures and then translates. My message sounds much more eloquent coming from her mouth.

Mikau sighs. "I know, I know," he mumbles. "It's…scary, is all."

"_I know_," I sign, and Zelda says it. "_And thank you again for helping me, and I am sorry for ignoring you for so long –,"_

"Oh, quit apologizing," he interjects gently with a forced grin. "I understand, and you're forgiven. Anyway, I should be the one apologizing. What we did to all those new kids….it was bad, wasn't it?

I nod.

He sighs and rubs his face.

"Shit," he grumbles wearily, and it's so quiet he's likely speaking to himself. "We really fucked up."

From the first floor the group of boys laugh and cheer exceptionally loudly. We all look at each other one last time before heading downstairs to sabotage the fuse box.

When I enter Mikau's den the laughter and conversation, which had become louder and louder with each step, abruptly stops. One second my ears are clogged with all their noise, and the next they are ringing from the newfound silence. All my old friends are sitting in couches, chairs, or tables in a tight, uncomfortable huddle in the small room. Plastic cups and plates holding pizza and pasta balance precariously on their laps: a mess waiting to happen. For a moment I am struck by some form of déjà vu. I remember doing exactly this: going to Mikau's house for pasta parties* the night before a big game, laughing about nothing particularly funny, and eating till I thought I was going to vomit. This time, however, their gazes are confused and hostile. Some of them are focused on me, some on Mikau for his obvious betrayal, and some are on Zelda because they've never seen her before.

"Guys," Mikau says strongly with his hands raised in a defensive position. "Link has something he wants to say." He hesitates and shakes his head. "Sorry. I mean he is going to _sign_ it and his friend, Zelda, will translate. Please listen to him. It's important."

Nobody says anything. All eyes are on me, including Talo's. Sitting in the corner, his skin is white with fear and his body is leaning forward, as if he's ready to either jump on me or sprint out the door at any moment. He must think I'm going to tell them all about his secret. Maybe this will be good news then.

"_Hello,"_ I sign and Zelda repeats it with strength. For a second I falter, terror ready to grip me and make me turn back, but Zelda and I glance at each other and her lips turn up just a fraction. Knowing that at least one person supports me pushes the fear away, so I sign, "_I have come to warn you that tomorrow morning I am turning myself in._"

Still nobody moves and their expressions remain warily annoyed. I continue to explain and Zelda translates in a steady, knowledgeable voice. "_I am going to tell the police that what happened was a hazing accident. Some of you may know that hazing is a serious crime, and there can be severe punishments. Once I go to the police, an investigation will begin and the cops will come to each of you and ask you about it. For those who were involved, I suggest you confess and then your punishment will lessen. At best we will all have community service, at worst we'll go to jail – "_

At the mention of jail and other punishments an angry murmur bubbles and the guys are looking at each other with fear. Some, however, are focusing their fury on me.

"Then don't tell the cops!" Ralph, a freckled red head who's sitting on the couch, shouts.

"_I have to," _I sign quickly and Zelda raises her voice to translate. "_It is the right thing to do_."

"Why should we be punished when it was you who pushed Colin!" Grog yells, ignoring me completely, and other members of the team shout their agreement.

"Yeah! We've done nothing wrong! It's you who is in trouble!" Mido snaps.

"_Listen to me!" _I sign frantically and Zelda's voice rises with desperation and frustration. "_Hazing is a group effort, and though you were not there that night with Colin and me you still made it happen. I agree that I am at most to blame, but nobody will be left off the hook. When I turn myself in they will come for the rest of you. I am here to _warn _you!"_

"Then don't turn yourself in!" Somebody interrupts from the back.

"_No, this is – _"

"You're crazy as shit!"

"_I am try – "_

"You're just trying to ruin our lives because your life sucks so much!"

"You're the one who tried to kill Colin! Don't blame this on us!"

"How are you going to tell them, you mute!"

"WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP!" Zelda screams and the room abruptly falls to silent. Fists clenched by her side and cobalt eyes ablaze with fury, she adds in a rush of words, "Listen to him! He's trying to help you! Whether or not Link turns himself in doesn't matter for you, because once Colin becomes coherent he or his family will tell the police what happened and an investigation will begin. This is inevitable! So listen up or you'll all rot in jail for seven years!"

If this were any other time I'd be amused by the tough, "cool" soccer players' stunned, awestruck expressions. Zelda passes her fierce glare over all their faces and nobody meets her gaze. From the back somebody shouts, "Who the hell are you?" to which Zelda immediately responds, "Shut up!" with such speed it is as if she was waiting for somebody to speak just so she could knock them down.

Satisfied with their obedience, Zelda turns to me and nods, telling me to continue.

I rub my hands together and regain my composure. Flexing my fingers, I sign, "_When the police talk to you, tell them the truth, or better yet, come with me tomorrow to turn yourselves in. If you confess you will have a better chance for a lesser punishment, but do not confess just to protect yourself. Confess because an innocent boy – our friend – nearly died due to our stupid 'traditions,' and we were all a cause of that. I admit that I am at fault here, probably more than most of you, but in the eyes of the law we were all apart of the hazing traditions. By turning ourselves in we can help fix it. We need to first recognize the problem and then actually do something about it. This is that something. This is justice."_

I stop and listen to Zelda say the last words with power and determination. A tense stillness befalls the room as the team stares up at me with horror and contemplation. I lock eyes with Talo again, surprised at how quiet he is, but his gaze is unreadable.

"This is a load of shit," Mido says with a snort. "If nobody else confesses then they can't arrest us, right Talo?"

Mido grins to his friend but Talo doesn't return it. Everybody turns to look at him, waiting for an answer, though he keeps his gaze locked on me. He doesn't say a word. It's as if he's mute.

"How about we promise not to do any more hazing?" A junior boy asks in a refreshingly calm voice. "Then we can deny everything and nobody will be punished."

"_That is not fair though, is it?"_ I reply and Zelda repeats it in a challenging tone.

The boy hangs his head, looking ashamed.

"_I know it is scary, but this is what is best. Do it for Colin, and if you are that selfish then at least do it for yourselves. I know what it is like, guys. You do not think you deserve it because you never liked hazing in the first place. You got swept up in all the excitement. You never wanted somebody to get hurt because of it, but somebody did and now we need to take responsibility."_

Nobody looks angry anymore, except for Mido and Grog. They are stunned by the lack of resistance from their teammates. Feeling drained, I finish with:

"_I am going to the police station at eight in the morning. Who wants to come with me?"_

Nobody moves.

I gaze at each thoughtful, ashamed face but none of them are able to look me in the eye. Even Talo stares at the wall in refusal. My heart slows and stutters with disappointment.

"I'll go," Mikau announces. He steps forward and raises his hand with pride.

Hope returns and I avert my gaze back to the crowd before me, expecting them all to join in now that one of their own has joined my side, but nobody moves. Nobody looks at Mikau. Nobody moves.

My hope vanishes.

I desperately turn to Zelda and her expression is as lost and helpless and my own. What more can I do? What more can she say to change their minds?

Without another word Zelda and I turn to leave. I hadn't expected much success, but Zelda is clearly disappointed by the team. We're halfway out the door when she spins around and says in a cold, disgusted voice,

"My mother was raped and murdered in front of my eyes when I was six years old."

That effectively shuts everybody up.

She pauses to allow the message to sink in before continuing in a biting tone. "Her killer was never found and justice has never been served. Link, however, understands that he has wronged somebody and he is doing all that he can to fix it and he is brave and amazing for doing so. You all have the opportunity to do what's right but you're all too selfish and cowardly to do so. You are no better than my mother's killer."

Head held high, she spins on her heels and marches out the door into the freezing December air.

Unlike her, I have the slight satisfaction of witnessing their faces go white with horror, but the feeling doesn't last long. She had never mentioned that her mother was raped, or that she even remembered it, and now she tells this to a group of strangers? Something is definitely wrong, and my fears are now insignificant compared to her. I quickly glare at them before running out of the house.

Outside, Zelda is walking briskly down the road. She's curled in on herself; her arms are tightly wrapped around her thin frame and her head is tucked into her chest. Her shoulders and legs shake from either the cold or the stress. She looks so lonely and vulnerable as she marches down the street with her shoulders braced against the cold and her eyes fixed on the ground. It's as if she's hiding from the world.

I quickly catch up with her, and to my relief she doesn't push me away when I slip my jacket off and drape it over her shoulders. Instead, she slows down and slips her arms into the oversized sleeves.

"Thanks," she whispers, but she doesn't look at me. I have a strong urge to take her hand, but her arms are crossed protectively over her chest and I worry that she might push me away.

I briefly hesitate, debating on if it's my place to ask, and then with quick, anxious movements, I ask, "_Why did you not tell me about your mother?"_

"Because I didn't know until recently," she replies quietly as she frantically brushes a strand of hair out of her face. "I remember only a glimpse of what I saw, but it was enough to confirm what I suspected all along…. It was after Cou died. I don't know why or how, but suddenly I saw it. For just a second. I saw…. It was a horrible, sickening second."

My gut twists with disgust. That's just….ugh, there are no words to describe what that is.

"So you see, Link," she says with determination and she suddenly stops walking. Arms still crossed, she looks me in the eye and states, "It's important that you do this. People are going to hate you, and I mean _really _hate you, but I'm proud of you. It's good to know there are still some noble people in this world."

I'm not sure if there is anything I can sign that would make her feel better, though she doesn't give me much of a chance to respond before she restarts her march down the dark road. I follow behind her to allow her some space. Very rarely does Zelda get angry, but right now she is practically steaming and I think it's best to let her cool off.

As we walk the five blocks to her house her pace gradually slows and her shoulders relax. By the time we turn on her street she brings herself to match my pace and then we slowly make our way to her house. She breathes a calming sigh. Without looking at me, she gingerly slips her hand into mine. It's a small gesture, but it makes my heart feel as though it's going to fly away with how fast and sporadic it's pulsing, and as I bring my fingers to curl around hers, I curse my bad luck. Of course I'd fall for an unattainable girl with a severe mental disorder, but somehow it doesn't feel like such a bad thing.

"I am proud of you, Link," she says again, but in a much gentler voice. Leaning against my side, she adds, "You are very brave."

I squeeze her hand to show my thanks.

When we reach her house she slows to a stop. Her eyes glance around us and her face becomes slightly red…. Is she blushing?

"I just…" she says with a slight shakiness to her usually steady voice. "I…. Good luck tomorrow. And, well, thank you, Link, for being a decent human being."

She grins cheekily and I playfully roll my eyes. Halfway through my excellent, eye roll, however, I feel something soft and a little wet press against my cheek. It isn't until she's halfway towards her door that I realize she just kissed me.

My fuse box short circuits. It doesn't function again until Zelda calls goodnight from her door and then disappears inside, and even then I am still incapable of moving my arms. Her kiss makes my walk home seem less of a death march, and I spend the rest of the night lying in my bed vacillating between terror for tomorrow and hope for Zelda. It's a long, sleepless night where I go between imaging Zelda lying beside me and smiling at nothing to improbable scenarios for tomorrow, most of which end in me going to some psycho prison. The worst scenarios are the ones where I don't get to see Zelda ever again, and that makes me feel empty.

Around three a.m., right before I finally fall asleep, I realize I spent the better half of the night thinking about Zelda (which is stupid of me since jail is a much more pressing concern), and with a sigh I curse my bad luck. Of course I had to fall for an unattainable girl with a severe mental illness and a nine o'clock curfew, but somehow it doesn't feel like such a bad thing.

* * *

At the beginning of the school year I was all anybody could talk about, but after a week or two passed new gossip was born and my story was discarded. The last few months at school have been fairly quiet, aside from a few nasty comments. I had foolishly hoped that this peace would remain even after I turned myself in and thus sparked an investigation that required questioning dozens of students and teachers and disqualifying the boy's soccer team from the upcoming semifinals. Of course, it does not.

The worst day is today: the day after I confess. Mikau, who was supposed to be my comrade through all this, never showed up at the police station yesterday and he is absent today, thus leaving me to go through the day alone. At first nobody seems to know about my actions. Everybody assumes that the police hanging around the front office are here for another drug bust, but when kids from the soccer team are pulled out of class for hour-long intervals, suspicions and rumors begin. I don't hear any, but Fledge informs me of a few: I told the police the entire soccer team had pushed Colin and me off the tower that night, I planted drugs in their lockers in order to get them in trouble and thus get my revenge, or that Mikau jumped off the water tower last night and now another person's in a coma (which explains why he isn't in school today). By the end of the day the real story has surfaced and all eyes are trained on me wherever I go. Some stare at me with unspoken threats while others look on with curiosity or pity. The only good remarks I get are from Fledge, who stares at me in awe all throughout lunch. Everybody else silently judges.

Last period is officially the worst class of the day because Mr. Pratchet, my physics teacher as well as an athletic coordinator, is called down to the office in the middle of a rather interesting lecture. Usually a free period brings joy to the students, but today all they feel is anxiety. I imagine what they're all thinking. How could Mr. Pratchet, the nicest old man in the world, be downstairs being interrogated right now? If he can be a suspect, then what does that mean for the rest of us?

The bell rings and I am the first one out the door. I make a beeline for my locker with every intent of grabbing my things and sprinting home. Thankfully, I get there undisturbed, but when I open my locker my heart drops with disappointment. There, sitting right on top of my history textbook is a pile of poo. Actual human poo.

Fucking bastards –

"Take a big whiff, Link," a malicious voice sneers beside me, and I look to see Ralph's freckled face inches away from mine. By some miracle I manage to restrain my fist from rearranging his smug, annoying face. "You better start getting used to that smell," he smirks and saunters past me, Mido and Grog following behind him in an arrogant procession line. "Cause you'll be receiving a lot more gifts soon"

They each take a turn shoulder checking me as they march past. I clench and unclench my fists, reminding myself that I need to be a good, peaceful person if I want any chance of mercy from the courts, but, goddesses, it's so hard not to pulverize them all.

I turn, halfway ready to grab them by the shirts and throw them on the ground, when Aryll steps out from the crowd of bustling students and stands before Ralph. Her smile is stretched into a wide, cheery grin that crinkles her eyes, and her head is tilted to the side, as if she has never been happier to see an irritating douche.

"Ralph!" she cries with way too much pep, and I know something isn't right. "It's so good to see you again. Look, I brought you some coffee!"

She thrusts her thermos towards him and he glances at it with suspicion. He quickly gets over his qualms, however, and reaches out to take the drink from her. His fingers are centimeters away from the plastic when Aryll's sweet smile turns into a mischievous smirk. She swings the cup around out of his reach and brings it over his head, pauses for dramatic effect, and then dumps the contents all over him.

It is possibly the best thing she has ever done.

Everybody – including Grog, Mido, the few kids around us, and Ralph – is too stunned to do anything but watch as the dark brown liquid rushes out of the thermos and crashes on Ralph's red head. He instantly goes rigid, too shocked to try to stop the flow of coffee as it cascades from the crown of his head and over his eyes, mouth, neck, and down his shirt.

"There," Aryll says with a heavy coat of fake sweetness. She shakes her thermos a few times and the remaining drops of coffee fling out onto Ralph's face. "I'msorry it's not hot. That's what happens when you leave it in your locker for a week!" She giggles. "But don't worry, next time I'll be sure to get it piping hot just for you."

She even has the audacity to give a little finger wave and say "tata" as she walks past them. Mido and Grog look painfully conflicted, probably wondering if the adage "don't hit a girl" still applies, whereas Ralph is too stupefied to do anything more than stare at his soaked body. Without a glance back, Aryll grabs my hand and proceeds to briskly walk away from the scene. A thick ring of students has formed around us, and I notice that most of them are smiling or laughing, and they part to allow Aryll and I room for a quick escape. A few people even high five her.

We're halfway down the hallway when Ralph finally has the thinking power to scream "THAT BITCH!" but before he can do anything else Aryll and I sprint the rest of the way out the school. We don't stop until we're two blocks away, and the only reason we stop then is because we're laughing so hard we're incapable of running.

"Oh my goddesses," she gasps as she puts her hands to her head and paces in a small circle. Grinning madly, she adds, "I cannot believe I just did that."

Leaning against the brick building, all I can do is smile too and shake my head. I'm dizzy and breathless with excitement. The fact Aryll is talking me – that she just did _that_ – makes me feel like I could fight a swarm of aliens with just a bow and arrow, and win.

"I cannot believe I just did that!" she exclaims again. She spins in a circle, her blond pigtails flinging about her beaming face, and then stops to look me in the eye. Her smile falls a bit and she blinks slowly. In a soft voice, she says, "I can't believe you turned yourself in."

Unsure of what to do, I look away and shrug.

"I'm sad it had to come to this," she says as she steps closer to me. "But…thank you."

"And, Link," she continues. "I'm sorry for being such a brat. I was being selfish and rude and bitchy and…. I'm really sorry."

She's not smiling anymore, and now that I've seen it it's all I want. I gently touch her shoulder to get her to look at me, and then I smile to show that it's all okay. She smiles, too, and an understanding passes between us. We forgive each other. We're back to how it was before. We're okay again.

And then as if that wasn't enough, she decides to do something that makes me feel all mushy inside. With precise, slow movements, she signs, "_I am sorry_."

My grin is uncontrollable and infectious and she giggles. Then without warning she throws herself at me and wraps me in a tight hug. It's a bit awkward and clumsy, but after some shifting we properly hug and I feel as though I can breathe again.

….and then I can't breathe.

I try to pull out of the hug but her grip is too strong. She's crushing my ribs and I try to pry her away, though it's a futile effort.

"You're not getting away from me," she states, her words muffled by my jacket. I back peddle and she shuffles with me. When I push harder against her she laughs and playfully whines, "Come on, Big Brother, I just wanna _hug_."

Oh goddesses, she's acting like she's eight years old again. When we were little she loved to be overly affectionate because it embarrassed me to no end, and now that she's older and stronger she's only gotten better at trapping me in a hug.

Silently laughing, I twist away from her but she instantly latches onto me again.

"Big Brother!" she cries as I escape her hold and start running down the street. I don't even manage five steps before she latches onto my back. Stumbling under her unexpected weight, she laughs in my ear as I stagger against the wall. I eventually manage to break free but the cycle starts right over again.

For the first time in a very, very long time, something finally feels right.

* * *

_*pasta parties – I am not sure how popular these things are, but for those who don't know a pasta party is when an athletic team will get together (usually at somebody's house) and all eat a lot of carbs (hence the pasta) so that they are ready for tomorrow's game. They are actually very fun! But not in this setting._

_Author's Note_

I know I say this nearly every chapter, BUT THIS WAS ACTUALLY SO HARD TO WRITE.

So I know some of you are skeptical about the whole law aspect of this story (and I promise this isn't going to become some Ace Attorney, CSI crossover thing), and, upon suggestion of my good friend Canada Cowboy, an explanation for the law of this story can be found on my tumblr page….well, it will be up soon. I won't post the thing till tomorrow cause it's nearly one o'clock in the morning and I'm sleepy. Anyway, if you have questions about the law go look at that.

I don't know about you guys, but poo was somewhat common at my school. Somebody would shit somewhere other than the bathroom at least once a month. I don't know why. It's disgusting. I hate my school (good thing I am going to college yayayayay)

Reviews make me very happy! I am always interested to hear your opinions, whether they are short or long, or happy or criticizing (okay I always prefer happy (who doesn't?) but I like all feedback). So thank you **Linkforever125, TheRoboman, NefasSegador, Generala, burningbook, Sparkling-Iris, The Supreme, The Super Twins, Guest, BlueFrenchHorn97, A Shadow's Lament, SweetCarnation, Canada Cowboy, R. Recollect, KaChan84, hylianprincessZ, ShadowNinja1011, AngelicParadox91, Bleachshowlover1, Hummingbird-95, Guest, Kamil the Awesome, The Phoenix Flower, Squeeb100, **and **tiduscanfly **for reviewing last chapter. Makes me very happy. :)

Thanks for reading!

~~Wave~~


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Important Announcement PLEASE READ – **When I began this story in January I decided that I needed to finish it before I go to college, which I thought I could easily do but now it's not so easy. I have to finish this story by August 18th (TEN DAYS) because if I don't then I know I will never finish it. Including this chapter there are only four chapters left, and so I think I can do it but things are going to be a bit tight. I figured you'd rather have a completed story with a few wording mistakes than an unfinished story, especially when we're so close! This doesn't mean that I am taking chunks out of the plotline to fit my deadline (because I assure you, this plot has been planned for a long time and even if I had months of time there would still only be four chapters left), but it does mean that there will be more grammatical errors and the writing won't be as good as I usually try to make it. I am writing a chapter every THREE DAYS, which is really hard for me, so I ask you to please be forgiving and I am sorry it has to be this way (I can only blame myself). I hope you will continue reading this story and I am sorry if I disappoint any of you.

Okay, on to the story!

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

Updated August 8th, 2013

* * *

After a week of heavy police presence and raging gossip, walking into group therapy is like walking into a sanctuary. I'll likely retract that statement once therapy actually starts though, but it's a welcome change finally go some place where people aren't constantly judging me. As I maneuver to my seat next to Zelda, I catch bits and pieces of conversation that actually make me smile rather than wish I were invisible. Zelda and Midna are talking about mangos (I have no idea why), Kafei, Anju, and Mill are discussing some trashy reality T.V. show, and Navi is trying to tell a story to Makar and Shiro, but both ignore her so she shouts "listen!" every ten seconds. Maggie, the kleptomaniac who is still in Juvie, broods in her chair as she does every session. Shiro sits silently near the wall.

"Hey, Link," Midna greets with a curt nod and I smile in return.

Zelda turns away from her friend to look at me. She's grinning, but something's off. She's wearing too much makeup, and when I look closely I can tell that she's trying to cover the bags under her eyes. Her braid, which is usually perfectly put together, has many loose strands, and her outfit consists of a simple wool knit sweater with a pair of worn jeans. It's probably nothing though. She's likely just feeling lazy today.

"Okay everybody!" Zelda shouts to the circle of teenagers to get their attention. "Now that we're all here, let's begin!"

While she explains the rules as she does with every session (be supportive, no interrupting, etc.), I notice two people in the room that I hadn't seen before. Sitting in the corner in uncomfortable plastic chairs is Gaebora and an old, balding man, with a long white beard and a burgundy suit. I recognize him to be Rauru, Zelda's therapist. Gaebora smiles at me and I give a little wave. Sometimes therapists will sit in on our sessions – Zelda's almost always does – but mine has never come until today. He likely heard what's going on at school and wants to hear my explanation for it, which, surprisingly enough, is fine by me.

"Now I don't know about the rest of you," Zelda continues with a tinge of pride to her voice. "But Link has had a rather eventful week, and so I think it would be best if we started off with him. Would you like to go first, Link?"

I nod, and having planned on this happening, I already know what I want to say. Using Zelda as my translator, I explain how I turned myself in and warned the team about it, too. They are all impressed by my actions, surprised that I had the bravery to put myself at risk like that, and their support eases some of my worry.

"Wow, Link, that's _so _kind of you," Navi says in that somewhat whiny voice of hers that indicates she's flirting. She leans forward and looks at me with her wide, blue eyes.

"Shut up, Navi," Midna growls. "Though that was good of you, Link."

"_Really _good," Navi adds with a purr and I try not to laugh. Being hit on by a twelve year old is more amusing than uncomfortable.

"Okay, okay," Zelda cuts in. "Link, please continue."

I do so and explain the last few days. I explain how Mikau failed to show up at the police station, how he later apologized to me for chickening out, how he immediately confessed when the police came to his house, and how I still resent him a bit for ditching me.

I tell them that, as the news spread, more and more students began resenting the members of the soccer team. In just a day they had gone from the most popular kids to the most hated. Half the soccer team is like me in that they never liked the hazing and they just did it to be accepted. Their guilt coupled with the schools' hostility led them to be one of the firsts to confess. The rest of the team, however, resents me for ruining their image. I tell them about the poop in my locker (and Aryll and I's renewed bond) and the many childish shoulder checks. I get smiles from kids I've never talked to before, and glares from people who I used to think were my friends. Overall, it has been a weird few days.

"So….are you going to go to prison?" Makar asks with a tilt of his head and a twitch of his fingers.

I shrug and sign, "_Maybe. Once the police finish their investigation there will be a trial, but…I do not know when that will be."_

Zelda translates, and her voice is unusually soft today. Something is off with her…

"You're going to court?" Kafei clarifies and I shrug again.

"_Probably._"

"My family has a lawyer we use a lot. I don't know if it's possible, but I can try to loan him to you free of charge," he offers.

"_I might actually have to take you up on that," _I sign and smile gratefully.

"I can't offer you a lawyer, but I do know a few things about pressure points," Midna adds with a smirk. "If you want me to, I can easily get those jocks off your back, and in a hospital instead."

"Midna…" Zelda warns.

"What?" she replies with mock innocence. "If somebody is willing to shit in another person's locker, I think I have the justification to show them what their ass looks like."

Zelda gives Midna a stern look rather than playfully rolling her eyes like she usually does.

"Are you scared?" Anju asks before Midna can say anything more that might count against her in the therapists' eyes.

Everybody looks at me seriously. I nod vigorously.

"At least you're doing a good thing," Mill points out and everybody smiles in agreement. "And we'll be rooting for you."

"Yeah, if you need any witnesses, I'm here!" Navi chimes in eagerly as she leans across Shiro to bat her eyelashes at me.

"_Thank you_," I sign. Zelda doesn't translate, though, and I assume it's just because "thank you" is such a common sign that everybody must recognize it by now.

"How's your Grandma doing?" Kafei asks.

"_She is very worried about me and keeps making too much food, but she is also very happy to see her kids together again."_

Silence follows. Zelda doesn't translate.

All eyes turn to her and something is _definitely_ wrong. Her head is bent and her shoulders are sagged. She squirms a bit in her chair as she bites her nail. After a second or two, she brings her head up and blinks at us in surprise. Still chewing on her nail, she grins and says in a childish, high-pitched voice, "Hullo."

She giggles and looks back at her lap. Swinging her legs, she begins to hum a simple tone that sounds a lot like "Row, Row, Row Your Boat."

"Zelda…." Midna whispers uneasily.

Zelda giggles and, with her head tilted down, looks at Midna through her eyelashes.

"Ellie!" she replies with a squeal and my stomach drops. Though I've seen Zelda switch before, I am always taken aback by how much she can change in just a second. One moment she is an intelligent, poise young woman, and the next she's practically drooling and talking like a little girl.

The old man in the corner instantly stands up and rushes towards Zelda. He kneels in front of her and gingerly takes her hand in his.

"Let's go, Ellie," he whispers. "It's time to go."

"I don't wanna go!" Zelda – Ellie – whines and snatches her hand away. "I wanna stay with my friends."

"Your friends are boring," he answers with a smile. "I have lots of toys in my office that you can play with."

Zelda pauses and looks at him with a hopeful grin. "Any princesses…?"

"Lots of princesses."

Giggling, she nods and, taking his hand, they walk out of the room together.

The door shuts with a _click_ and leaves us all in a shocked, heavy silence. Even Navi has managed to shut up for a bit as we strain to listen for anything more but hear nothing.

From the corner, Gaebora stands and clears his throat to get our attention. "As you can see, Zelda is currently unable to run this session," he states in his professional calm yet sympathetic voice. "I will run the rest of it for today."

Nobody says anything as he walks across the room and sits beside me. I like him, but I don't like him sitting there. That's Zelda's seat.

I hold back a sigh. For a while there I was actually feeling good about myself, but after watching Zelda's mind overtake her once again, a desperation returns. Ever since she told me her mother was raped, I've been worrying that her condition has worsened, but I'm too scared to ask.

Gaebora continues the session, though I don't pay much attention. I find myself continuously glancing at the door, hoping Zelda will return.

She doesn't.

* * *

Weeks pass very, _very_ slowly. It doesn't snow much, but time feels like it's constantly trudging through eight feet of snow. The days are short and gray and the nights are long and dark.

The police come less and less but their investigation isn't done yet because otherwise I'd be on trial by now, though I don't know what they're still looking for. Aryll gives me most of my news. She says that the ones who have confessed either actually feel guilty about what they did while the other ones are doing it for themselves. I also get some information from the news, though despite their long, detailed paragraphs they don't have much news to give. It's unsettling, though, seeing my name in that black ink. The article paints me as a criminal (which is reasonable) and it leaves me feeling ashamed and nervous.

Time is sluggish, but school is improving. According to Mikau, one investigator told him that it would be in his best interest to demonstrate his regret through some kind of action, which is why the boy's soccer team is now forming an anti-bullying club. It's sickeningly ironic for them to be singing kumbaya – so sickening that I never attend any meetings – and despite their good intentions it makes me hate them more.

The hostility has decreased, too. Once word got out that hazing was happening, less and less people idolized the soccer team and now they are the ones having to sit in the corner of the cafeteria or in the back of the library. Just last week Talo, who always talked too loud and too often, was told by another student to shut up because he was distracting them. That student was Fledge.

December is an exhausting month, but I manage to regain some excitement when the week of Nayru's Night – the biggest holiday of the year – finally rolls around. School is let out early, and as soon as the last bell rings our winter break officially begins. Today is especially exciting, though, because tonight I am hosting a group therapy party to celebrate the upcoming holiday. Aryll and I spend the afternoon helping Grandma cook an enormous amount of food and reassuring her that my friends aren't so mentally unstable they are going to set the house on fire. As we prepare for the party Grandma sings old folk songs and Aryll and I pound loudly on the pans like childish brats and we burst out laughing when Grandma finally tells us to shut up. We spend the afternoon like we should've spent the Harvest Festival. By the time the first guest arrives Aryll and I are officially reconnected. There are no more awkward pauses or tentative comments. We are back to being just brother and sister.

Navi is the first one to arrive (ten minutes early, actually), and she rushes to give me an unnecessarily tight hug. She's wearing way too much make up and an overly formal silver dress that's too mature for her age. Her curled, platinum blonde hair likely took forever to do and her perfume is overpowering. Aryll wastes no time using this to her advantage, and she swoops in with a million compliments on Navi's appearance before finally turning the conversation back to me.

"Did you know Link writes poetry?" Aryll asks Navi with a sly grin.

"I had no idea!" Navi exclaims and looks up at me with overly wide eyes. "Will you write me something?"

"_No," _I sign and give Aryll a pointed glare. "_Because I do not write poetry."_

"He says he'd love to," she falsely translates. I step on her foot but her grin doesn't falter.

Thankfully, Midna walks in before Navi can start flirting again, and she effectively gets the girl with separation anxiety away from me. The rest of the crew quickly arrives (aside from Maggie and Shiro), and soon we are all squished in the tiny living room. One too many people are squeezed on the couch and Anju and Kafei share the plush reclining chair while Navi sits on the coffee table in an attempt to be at the center of attention. Aryll and I help Grandma pass out the food, and when everybody has received more than they can ever hope to consume they all say, "Thank you, Link's Grandma," making her blush and smile.

Zelda arrives ten minutes late, which is odd for her, but she comes with a giant pie to make up for it. My heart does an annoying jump thing when she smiles at me and my palms are already sweating even though it's rather cold in here. She says hello and I regret what I am wearing. Why did I think jeans and a green sweater was a good idea? Did I brush my hair? Did I brush my teeth? I should've put on more deodorant.

Zelda opens her mouth to say something more, but Grandma swoops in so fast that she must have been waiting for this moment to embarrass me for weeks.

"So are you and Link doing anything special for the holidays?" she asks eagerly, not missing a beat, while bringing the pie to the kitchen.

"Oh, um…" she mumbles. "I suppose this party is that special something?"

"You know, my husband and I always went on a midnight boat ride when we were still living in Outset," she explains and I barely resist face palming myself. "Though when we moved here ice skating became the new tradition. It was very romantic. You two should try it!"

"_I am so sorry_," I sign to her and she laughs at my red face.

"Don't be apologizing for me, Link," Grandma playfully scolds. "You should be apologizing for yourself! You two have been friends for months and you haven't asked her on a date! You haven't even complimented her dress. Look how beautiful it is!"

She gestures wildly to Zelda's attire, which is a midnight blue dress covered in flowery lace. It is pretty, I guess, but Zelda always look beautiful.

I glance back to her face and she's clearly blushing. Grandma, however, is positively beaming with her match making skills (or lack there of). I glare at her and she winks. Typical Grandma.

Midna calls Zelda over and she practically sprints across the room to get out of this terribly awkward situation. Grandma giggles and then retreats upstairs, giving us the first floor for the party.

I head back to the group and think, well, it can't get any more awkward than that.

* * *

Dinner is as hilarious as last time, except it's even better now because I am completely part of the group and Aryll joins us. We spend an hour getting caught up on each other's crazy lives and eating way too much as we do so. Zelda cries because she's laughing so hard at Anju's story about losing her cuccoos and chasing them through a pet store. Midna boasts about her new record of five guys in a month who deserved a kick in the balls, and Mill is in the happy mood of his bipolar disorder.

Once all the plates are cleared, Navi insists that we all play Never Have I Ever, a game where everybody takes a turn saying something they have never done and then whoever has done the least of those things wins. It's the only decent suggestion Navi has made all night, so we all sit around in the living room again and begin the game.

"I'll go first," Navi states eagerly. "Never have I ever…yelled at somebody so much that I made them cry."

Everybody laughs as Midna puts a finger down with a dramatic eye roll. Mill also puts a finger down and, to my surprise, so does Zelda.

"What?" She asks with a chuckle. "My other personalities are not the nicest people."

"Do those count?" Kafei asks.

"I'm going to count them, because otherwise I will easily win this game, and that's no fun."

"Okay, my turn!" Mill interrupts. "Never have I ever….smoked pot."

Much to my embarrassment, Midna and I are the only ones to put our fingers down. Everybody starts cheering and laughing, and I desperately try to explain through sign language that it was _one time_ and I was at a soccer party, but they ignore me.

Aryll goes next and she states that she has never been kicked out of a public place. Unsurprisingly, Midna, Mill, Makar, Navi, and Zelda put their fingers down.

We continue to go around and around, and the game is much more fun than I remember it being. The one time I played it before everybody was focusing on very sexual activities that people likely lied about doing. Here the statements are unique to our situations, because most teens aren't plagued by a mental illness or family troubles. Only Navi has ever walked around her house naked to get attention, and everybody aside from Aryll and I have run away from home at some point. Technically everything we're talking about is depressing, but we're laughing nevertheless. I'm not entirely sure why (because I am in no way a therapist of any kind), but I imagine that we're not laughing because it's funny, but because it's such a relief to be with people who are like us. Or maybe we're laughing at how messed up we all are, because after long sessions of serious conversations and pent up emotions, poking fun at our flaws is our form of saying _it's going to be okay._

In the end Midna loses first, then Makar, then Zelda, then Navi (though she likely lied about a few things for the attention, but nobody argues with her), and the rest doesn't matter. Kafei and I both lose on Aryll's turn, when she says that she never punched anybody in the face.

"Wait, who did _you_ punch?" Anju asks with a strange look of excitement and wariness in her eyes.

"My cousin," Kafei answers with a proud grin and a careless shrug. "I received a heavy reprimand from my parents, but I still don't regret it."

"What did he do to you?" Midna asks from her position on the floor, leaning against a stack of ancient dictionaries.

"He was saying some discourteous remarks about…" he glances nervously at Anju, who quickly gets the hint .

"About me?" She gasps. "Well…what a dick."

We're stunned for a moment. The rudest thing Anju has ever said was "please stop," and so when we finally register what she just said another round of laughter explodes. Even she's giggling at her inappropriate language.

I look to Zelda, hoping to catch her eye as I've been doing throughout the night, but all happiness drains out of me when I see her. The sound of laughter becomes a buzzing background noise as my mind and body focuses solely on her. She's bent over on the floor with her head in her hands, her fingers aggressively curling her hair, and her shoulders hunched. Her body trembles and she rocks ever so slightly. Cautiously, I lay a hand on her arm. She immediately snaps her head up and glares at me with more loathing than I've ever seen from her.

"Git your hands off me!" she snaps, her eyebrows furrowed with irritation and her mouth in a deep scowl. "Just piss off, will yah?"

She abruptly stands up, and her hostile words and sudden movements silences the rest of the group so fast that their loud chatter lingers in my ears. For a moment nothing happens, but then Zelda tips dangerously to the side and, despite the risk of Tetra lashing out at me, I rush up to grab her. Eyes dazed and mouth slightly parted, she topples into me and I stagger under her dead weight. When I place my hands on her shoulders, however, she weakly jerks her head back and grumbles, "I don't need yah help…"

She sways to the side again and I steady her. I have never seen her act likes this before, like she's fighting against a personality for control of her body. Her eyes narrow and widen, her mouth frowns and parts, and her fingers clench and curl. The way she seems to be in the threshold of control and chaos sends shivers down my spine. Fighting the urge to run, I place my hands on both sides of her face to try to get her to look at me. It takes her a few seconds but eventually our eyes lock. Her pupils stop dilating and she blinks back bleariness.

"Sorry," she mumbles weakly, and she doesn't sound like Tetra anymore. "I…I need some…quiet."

Any fear I have of her disorder disappears when she looks at me with her helpless, lost cobalt eyes. If she asked me to rob a bank with her I couldn't refuse. All thoughts of self-preservation gone, I wrap an arm around her shoulders and she leans against me as I carefully begin to lead her away.

"Do you need some help?" Midna questions and breaks the heavy silence of the group. I shake my head and wave, telling her to continue without us. They remain quiet, however, as I slowly help Zelda up the stairs. She sways but other than that she manages to move rather well. We make it to my room all right, and I gently put her down on my bed, closing the door with my foot as I do so. I decide not to turn on the lights in hopes that the darkness will relax her. As quietly as I can, I pull my desk chair over and sit a few feet away from her, and then I watch.

I feel so helpless just watching, but I don't know what to do. She's perched on the edge of my bed with her head back in her hands as she takes deep, shaking breaths. Her blond hair, which looks faded in the darkness of my room, hides her face from me. I want to reach out and touch her, but what if that just brings Tetra back? Or what if it brings Death? Or even Sheik?

We sit there for a long time – I'm not entirely sure how long – and at some point it begins to snow. They're big snowflakes, too, almost as if they are cotton balls falling from the sky.

"Link…" Zelda whispers timidly and I avert my gaze back to her. Her eyes are tinted pink but there is no other evidence that she's been crying. Without thinking I scoot my chair closer to her and brush the hair out of her face. She shudders when my fingers brush her skin, and something in my chest tightens. Bringing my hand back to my lap, I try to annoy the now familiar warmth, but to no avail.

Though I am terrified of the answer, I know I have to ask the question that's been on my mind ever since we confronted the boy's soccer team. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I sign, "_You are remembering, aren't you?"_

She doesn't say anything, but the answer is clear. Her body shudders and she hugs herself like she's trying to keep herself intact. Closing her eyes, she nods as a tear falls, but before it can get to her chin I reach out and brush it away. She leans into my palm. I don't move it back this time.

"I don't know why it's coming back to me now…" she whispers, and her voice is so weak that I think my heart might literally be breaking. "Last month, a few days after Cou died, I had a breakthrough during therapy, but it doesn't feel like a breakthrough because my personalities have been coming out more frequently, and I…. and now I remember my mother and…and _him…._"

Her voice cracks and my thumb rubs soothing circles into her wet cheek.

"I remember a name, too," she continues, blinking her eyes open. "Ghirahim…but the police say it's likely a disguise. They can't find anybody under that name."

My thumb presses a bit harder into her cheek and my fingers curl around her soft hair. The dull light from the window barely illuminates her face, but it's enough light to highlight another tear as it leaks from her glistening blue eyes.

"I-I'm sorry," she stutters. "You should go back to the party."

I can't help but smile at her obliviousness. Like I'd want to be anywhere she wasn't, even if she is crying and on the verge of switching.

Shaking my head, I sign, "_No thank you, but wait. I got you something."_

Without waiting for a response, I get up and go to my closet to retrieve the carefully wrapped gift. Her eyes widen with surprise at its moderately large size as I plop it in her lap. Sitting back down, I sign, "_Happy Nayru's Night._"

She wipes away a few remaining tears and looks at me curiously. I imagine she's wondering if giving her a material object is my attempt at making her feel better.

The answer is yes. Though in my defense, I'm not a trained psychiatrist. This is the best I can come up with on such short notice.

Sniffling, she carefully tears the maroon wrapping apart. Underneath the thin layer of paper is a cardboard box, and underneath the cardboard is a clump of white and blue tissue paper, and underneath the tissue paper is an assortment of items that makes her smile despite her watery eyes and tousled hair.

"What…" she says with amusement as she pulls out the first present. "Is this?"

"_I made it in woodshop," _I sign, watching her turn the poorly made wooden figurine in her hand. "_It is supposed to be one of those legendary birds but…I suck at woodshop."_

"No, it's cute," she chuckles weakly as she wipes at her eyes again. "I like it very much. Thank you."

She gingerly places the gift aside on the bed and then reaches for the next one. It's a light scarf with a graphic design of a camera printed on it. Before she can say anything I take it from her hands and drape it around her neck myself. My fingers brush her throat and our eyes lock. For a second I freeze, and every nerve in my body is telling me to _lean forward dammit _but my brain says _no you idiot, she doesn't want somebody so flawed. _With that final thought, I snap my hands back into my lap. I break eye contact and look to the side.

"T-thank you," she breathes after a tense pause. She's so quiet I can barely hear her.

Thankfully, the last present makes her smile again. It's a mix C.D. (terribly cliché, but ever since I provided Colin's family with compensation I've been very short on money) titled _Your Recovery Playlist. _With her tears finally dried, she actually looks pleased as she runs her thumb across the messy scrawl on the case that lists the song names and artist.

"_I spent a while trying to find the best songs that would inspire and comfort you," _I sign, my hands shaking nervously and my gestures exaggerated to get her attention. "_It is my addition to the mental playlist, except sappier and more optimistic. Hopefully the songs are…you know, actually good. I never knew if my taste in music is good or not, so you might end up hating all of it, which is fine but I just thought – _"

"Link," Zelda interrupts with a sly smile. "You're rambling."

My hands abruptly stop. Thank goddesses I left the lights off in here so she can't see my red face.

"Thank you," she says with such a sincere, radiant smile that it leaves me feeling flustered. "I can't wait to listen to it."

I rarely ever forget how strong Zelda is. Despite the resurrection of her horrible memories and her inability to control her own body she can still wipe away the tears and grin. She doesn't let her corrupted childhood destroy her spirit. In fact, she doesn't abandon her compassion, morals, or optimism for anything.

A brief silence falls between us. She's beautiful even though she's hidden by dramatic, malevolent shadows. I want to kiss her. I don't.

"I got you something, too," she says as she reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a present wrapped in white. "It's…well, it's different."

Though I try not to think too much of it, the fact that we both got each other presents must mean _something. _I carefully take it from her and tear the paper away to reveal a thin, leather bound book. Flipping it open, I realize that it isn't a book but a photo album…of me.

The first photo is the one where Zelda and I's hands are shaking and mine is covered in ink and hers is perfectly clean. The next few are the ones I had seen from her room, and then there are a couple more that are completely new. There's one of me laughing on her bedroom floor, surrounded by her absurd amount of books. Another one shows me from behind walking into Mikau's house the night I confronted the team, and the one after that is a black and white of me looking to the side and appearing quite serious. The last one is the only photo I remember her taking. We were hanging out at Telma's, as usual, and she snapped a photo while I tried to tell her no. In this picture I'm grinning and looking right at the camera.

"I got an A, by the way," she says after I finish going through it, and her voice is noticeably shaky. "For my photography class. You were my theme, remember? A-anyway, I thought you'd like it because, well, you've really grown since I met you. You…you're really sweet and brave and…I….I think I…um…"

I drop the album onto the floor and it lands with a dull _thud_.

"O-oh," she stammers, staring at the discarded gift in shock. "You didn't like it…. I'm sorry, I – "

But I don't let her say anymore. Placing my hand behind her head, my fingers travel through her locks of soft, golden hair as my heart swells and beats sporadically. I lean forward and bring her head closer to mine. Our lips press together. My fuse box implodes.

The kiss really shouldn't leave me feeling like I'm inside a burning building, or that my limbs are useless, tingling masses of putty, or that my own name is an insignificant fact, because it's a simple kiss that, under any other circumstances, would be considered boring.

But this kiss leaves me feeling fulfilled, victorious, loved, blissful, and whole, because it's _Zelda_, whose lips are delightfully soft and whose brain is immaculately flawed. It's Zelda, who is likely the only reason for my change.

Yet she doesn't move. I wait a moment longer, hoping that she'll part her lips or tilt her head or place her hand on me, but she doesn't do anything. An icy fear sets in my chest and I quickly pull away. Shit. I messed this up. Shit shit shit.

I search her face for any signs of discomfort. She certainly doesn't seem angry. Her eyes flutter open and then widen with surprise, and we just stare at each other like we've never seen each other before. My heart is pounding so hard I think it'll bruise my insides. Why did I eat so much food? I'll probably vomit now.

"I-I…" she stumbles over her words and licks her lips, which reminds me of what I had been doing just a second ago and I'm already longing for the feeling again. "I…I'm sorry. I just never, you know. I've never had anybody do that and…I'm sorry. I'm really making a mess of this aren't I?"

She smiles sheepishly but I'm too scared to move. When I don't respond her grin slips into a sweet, shy smile.

"Link," she says softly as she leans forward. Blushing profusely, she glances at my lips and whispers, "If it's not too much trouble, I'd really like you to kiss me again."

It takes a few seconds for her words to register in my short-circuited brain, but when they do I grin and she giggles.

"Nothing will ever be easy for us, will it?" she whispers just as I'm moving in, and I feel her breath against my mouth.

This time when we kiss she eagerly responds. It's a bit clumsy, to be honest, but I've never felt a greater surge of love and warmth in my entire life than when her hand snakes around my neck as her mouth moves slowly in sync with mine. Nothing else will ever be easy for us, but kissing Zelda comes naturally.

* * *

Author's Note

Clearly I have been wanting for Link and Zelda to get together because, if you've been following the tumblr page, you'll see that I keep writing kissing scenes.: )

In case you didn't notice: Nayru's Night is the Hylian version of Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanza.

I was absolutely overwhelmed with all the great feedback I received last chapter – so overwhelmed that I haven't even responded to all your messages yet (but I promise you, I will! I was busy writing this at rocket speed). I love and really appreciate all the support you guys have been giving, and so I assure you that I am going to try my best to get these final chapters to be as good as possible despite the time constraints. Thank you **Shadowpelt2, ScarlettAlexandra, sslamajama97, Oblivion Star Seeker, NefasSegador, Aurora Freeway, The Supreme, The Phoenix Flower, Yanner12, The Super Twins, aipatchi, Canada Cowboy, , Grassy Nol, Sparkling-Iris, FuzzedUpPickles, Squeeb100, Shadow's Lament, SweetCarnation, Darkblaze40, ShadowNinja1011, Darkblaze40, kaChan84, AngelicParadox91, Hummingbird-95, david davidson, Guest, MasterShortPantsx3, paradoxian, Generala, Ordinary Citizen, burning book, Kamil the Awesome, SnowyDawn17, **and** Skyward-Girl **for your kind and helpful reviews. As always, special thanks to **Canada Cowboy **for your help with the plot, and a special thanks to **Masterday, **who gave me some information about group therapy that I barely applied here but still appreciate nevertheless.

Okay, that's it for now. Thank you very much for reading and, as always, feedback makes me very happy!

~~Wave~~


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Warning: rated T for a reason.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

Updated August 12th, 2013

* * *

Nayru's week is complete bliss. Zelda and I meet up everyday either at my house, hers, or Telma's, and when I am not with her I am with Aryll and Grandma playing mindless board games or watching old people television. We finish the week with a small, relaxed New Year's Eve party at Anju's house. I'm on such a happy high that even Zelda's more constant switching doesn't deter my mood too much, especially when I learn that my sign language helps bring Zelda back to reality. She says something about sign language gives her a sense of control, though she isn't entirely sure what that is. I'm just pleased that I manage to find a way to help.

Of course the carefree joy we experience can't proceed to the New Year. It's no surprise that harsh reality has to return the second day of January.

I sleep late into the morning. Aryll and I wake up around the same time and fight over the sink as we brush our teeth. Grandma is making eggs and toast downstairs, and the delectable smell floats throughout the house like a warm fog. We sleepily stumble down the stairs. While Aryll goes to help Grandma in the kitchen, I open the front door to retrieve our mail. It's a dreary day with a steady rainfall that makes the few inches of snow turn to slush. In just pajamas, I quickly run across the ground on the balls of my bare feet, grab the mail, and then rush back inside. I'm still half asleep as I flip through the damp envelopes. Bill to Grandma, bill to Grandma, knitting magazine, bill to Grandma, coupon for Talbots, dentist postcard, bill to Grandma, official looking envelope to Link, interior design magazine, bill to –

Wait, what.

Carelessly tossing the rest of the mail aside, I rip open the manila envelope. I read the letter once, twice. The paper is stiff and the letters are black. My heart is heavy.

"Link," Grandma greets in a cheery voice as I walk into the kitchen. "Your eggs are ready..."

She quickly trails off when she sees my ashen face. Her grin slips and Aryll's sleepy eyes awaken with fearful curiosity. Placing her stirring spoon on the counter, Grandma hobbles over to me and asks in a hushed tone, "What's happened?"

I hand her the letter. Donning her reading glasses, she immediately begins reading and Aryll rushes over to peer over Grandma's shoulder. When they're done Aryll's eyebrows furrow in confusion and she bites her bottom lip in thought.

"I don't get it," she states simply. "Are you going to court?"

"_I do not know," _I reply with a shrug. "_It says I have a meeting with a prosecutor, and I guess if that goes badly I have to go to court…or maybe I have to go to court either way."_

We glance at Grandma, who is oddly quiet and is rereading the letter. I'm waiting for her to say something, but her face is an emotionless mask.

"_All I know is that next week I have to show up at a lawyer's office," _I sign, taking the opportunity to address something that's been plaguing me for a while. Aryll nudges Grandma to make her look up at me so that she can read my hands. "_I do not know what is going to happen, but there is a chance that I could go to jail. I think it is best that you two should be prepared for that. So, Aryll, I want you to look after Grandma and keep excelling at school. Make good friends. Do what you want to and not what anybody else wants you to. Grandma, do not worry about me. You need to rest and – "_

"Oh, don't tell me what to do!" Grandma snaps, her voice wobbly as her mask slips to show teary eyes and heavy wrinkles. "You think I'm not going to worry about my baby going to prison? And don't talk like that! No grandson of mine is going to jail!"

"Grandma…" Aryll says soothingly, but Grandma shakes her head.

"You're a good boy, Link," she says in a tremulous whisper as she steps towards me and pins me with her dark, glistening brown eyes. "You sacrificed your voice to save Colin. You even sacrificed your small wealth, and you turned yourself in! How can they even think of putting such a nice boy in jail?"

"_Grandma…" _I sign slowly as Aryll rests a comforting hand on her shoulder. "_I do not want to go to jail either, but if the courts think I should then I will go without a fight. We should discuss it so that we are all prepared – "_

She rushes forward and wraps her short, bony arms around my waist. Her round face is pressed into my chest as she begins to cry.

"I know, I know," she mumbles. "You are a _very _good boy, Link, and I am so proud of you, but that doesn't mean I am okay with you going to jail."

Wrapping my arms around her, I place a kiss on top of her head and take a deep breath of that old person smell, but it's a sweet scent. It's the smell of home and family and safety, like breakfast in bed and archaic books and mothballs.

She steps back and cups my face with her wrinkled hands. Tears trickle out of her eyes and around her broken smile. In an airy voice, she says, "I love you very much, Link. You stay good, you hear?"

I nod. She pats my cheek twice before she begins to shuffle away, her body wobbling with her movements and repressed tears.

"Tell Aryll what you like – I know you'll just be talking about your crazy old grandma. I'll be upstairs if you need me."

"Grandma…" Aryll sighs, and I don't know if she's trying to make her stay or scolding her for her self deprecating comment, but Grandma hobbles out without another word. Neither of us try to go after her, though. Privacy is all she really needs right now.

I turn back to my sister to find her face the most somber it has been all week. Thankfully she's not crying. This will all be easier if there are no tears.

"So," she drawls once we hear Grandma on the stairs. "What is it you want to tell me?"

"_Just…" _I sign, suddenly at a loss for words. "_Be good. Look after Grandma. Do not touch my room."_

She smiles a bit at that last one. "Sorry, brother, but whether you are going to college or to jail you know I'm taking your CDs."

"_How thoughtful of you."_

Her mouth flashes into a forced grin for a second or two before falling back to a pensive, melancholy expression. After an uncomfortable pause, she asks,

"What are you going to tell Zelda?"

The question surprises me. I hadn't really thought about that yet. What will I say? I'm sure she'll be supportive, but I know she doesn't like the idea of me going to jail anymore than I do. As odd as it sounds, I think I am more worried for her than for myself now, but that will probably change if I watch _The Shawshank Redemption_ again.

I shrug.

Aryll nods and releases a deep breath. "Colin's getting better," she adds in quiet tone. "I saw him last night. His memory is good and we talked for a bit, but I didn't ask his opinion of you or anything. He didn't mention the police either, though he would have had to given his statement for you to be called to the prosecutor's…. I don't know."

She hesitates and bites her lips again. With her arms crossed, she leans to the side and muses, "He gets tired quickly and he still can't walk without a nurse's help, but he's getting better. Rusl's started to regain some of his weight, and even Uli looks a bit happier. His chances of survival are improving everyday. You should go see him."

"_Do you think he will want to see me?"_ I sign quickly.

"I don't know, but you should, don't you think?"

I nod in agreement and we lapse into another tense silence.

"Link…" she says in a way that hints that she has so much she wants to address, but doesn't know how. "You…you be careful, okay?"

I force a smile in response. She shuffles her feet before moving to go past me. On her way out of the kitchen she playfully punches me in the shoulder, though it's rather weak and lacks the usual insult that accompanies it. Somehow her punch holds more weight than any word she could say, and I am just glad we are back on good, annoying sibling terms.

* * *

The weather clears up by the time night falls, but the wintery chill remains. I wait outside the quaint, _warm_ tea place with my green wool hat pulled lightly over my numbing ears and my gloveless fingers desperately rubbing together in a futile attempt for heat. Thankfully, I don't have to wait long, because after a few minutes of withstanding freezing January air a sleek black car rolls up along the curb and Zelda practically bolts out of it. I was hopping that after kissing her my heart's annoying habit of palpitating when Zelda is around would stop, but if anything it has only gotten worse. She's not even wearing anything extra special – just a thick black overcoat and tights – yet I find my heartbeat accelerating.

"Hello," she greets in a singsong voice as she rushes up to me. "Ready for our official _first date_?"

I had a bizarre, horrible idea the other night that Zelda and I should actually go on a date in order to insure that this won't just be a weird friends-with-benefits type thing, and while it seemed like a good idea at the time I now really regret it. Labeling tonight as a _date_ has made my palms sweatier than normal, my hair more untidy than normal, and my limbs scrawnier than normal. This is Zelda's first date ever, and I have no idea what her expectations are. I've kissed her a few more times since the party, but I am still unsure as to how far I can go and she's too nervous to ever instigate anything. I suppose that's just new relationship jitters though.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I sign in an attempt to make a joke, "_Aryll spent a whole hour with me trying to choose an outfit. Apparently you cannot wear navy and black."_

"She has a point there," she chuckles as we walk in to the tea place. "I wish Impa was as enthusiastic, but she's been even more smothery nowadays. I didn't tell my dad, though. I have no idea how he'd react."

The conversation dies as we walk up to the counter and order our teas. She teases me for getting a chocolate muffin (_you know they have dinner food, right?_) and I tease her for ordering a fruit tea (_soooo un-classy)_. When we sit down I pull the seat out for her and she laughs somewhat nervously. I take off my jacket and hat, revealing the Aryll approved blue plaid button down underneath. Zelda removes her coat and nothing-extra-special turns into this-is-special-dammit. She's wearing a blood red sweater dress that contrasts so well with her peach skin and long, perfectly straight golden hair my eyes are instantly drawn to her. With every move she makes her Triforce necklace swings and her ruby studded bangles jangle together on her slender wrists. Something she did with her mascara has made her keen blue eyes appear larger than normal and her lips are tantalizingly pink. Goddesses, I am inadequate.

She's smiling even though I've done nothing worthwhile, but seeing her so cheerful despite the recent developments in her life makes me feel worlds better about myself…and then I feel like a dick for having to take the happiness away.

"_I am sorry to start this date off on a sad note," _I sign and her smile begins to fade. "_But I have to tell you that I go a letter today. I have a meeting with a prosecutor next week."_

A beat of silence follows. She blinks in surprise and, thankfully, doesn't start crying like I feared she would.

"A prosecutor?" she repeats curiously, and she actually looks….relieved?

"_Yes_," I sign. "_It sounds as though I am going to receive a punishment from him…I am not really sure though."_

"It is likely a meeting to see what your options are," she explains in a rush of words, like she's spouting knowledge uncontrollably. "Instead of going straight to court you'll meet with a prosecutor who will decide on a punishment, because the government likes to keep youth out of trials unless it's absolutely necessary. This is actually good news…though you still might go to jail."

"_Oh_," I sign after all her rapidly spoken words sink in. "_So I should be happy?"_

"Well, not _ecstatic_, but you shouldn't be disillusioned either," she responds in a refreshingly relaxed tone. "I was worried that they'd skip this part and go straight to an actual court. The fact that you have a meeting with a prosecutor instead means you have a better chance of evading jail."

"_Since when did you become a lawyer?"_

"My dad's a politician, remember? I had him look into it."

She grins and takes another long sip of her tea as relief takes the stress away from my body. I smile. Leave it to Zelda to be prepared for anything.

Once she swallows her drink, she leans her head against her hand and asks, "So, any other news or can this date officially commence?"

I smile at her boldness. "_Only if I can have some of your fries."_

"I always knew you only liked me for my food," she says with a dramatic sigh. "But I suppose the fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

She pushes her plate to the middle and I pluck the longest fries off. Grinning, I take a bite, chewing slowly to savor the delicious taste, and she rolls her eyes at my childish antics.

Despite the rather depressing news after a week of utter joy, we easily fall back into our routine and soon we are making inside jokes and laughing as we always do. I go back to having sweaty palms and she blushes more than usual. We make plans to start watching a new trashy television show (because, even though she denies it all the time, Zelda is _addicted _to them), I retell some embarrassing childhood stories of Aryll and I, and she ends up eating most of my muffin.

After our cheap dinner at the teashop, we end up wandering down random streets with our hands clasped tightly between us. We don't converse much during this time, yet we still connect. Our fingers never disentangle and our shoulders are constantly pressed together. Her hair occasionally blows in my face and I subconsciously kiss the top of her head, which makes her giggle and lean into me. When she does talk I can't respond because I don't want to remove my hand from hers, yet our minds seem to be in perfect synchronization. If she ever asks a yes or no question I tap my finger twice against hers for a yes and once for a no. If I want her to follow my direction I drum all my fingers across her knuckles. When she's about to run into someone, or something, I squeeze my hand and she immediately leans into me. Sometimes I'll just stroke my thumb along the edge of her palm, which makes her smile and blush. I never actually tell her what these gestures mean, but she picks them up instantly.

We're walking over a stone, arched bridge that traverses one of the few canals in the city, when she stops near the edge and pulls me towards her. Though her face is hidden in shadows her smile is radiantly beautiful. Grinning, she presses herself against me and says in a cheerful whisper,

"This is a very good date."

I smile and thank the goddesses that I haven't messed this up. My heart leaps when she glances at my mouth and I eagerly wait what's to come. Standing on her toes, she brings her face an inch away from mine. I close the gap and I can feel her melt under my touch.

Alone on a bridge, standing over a placid river and under an array of stars, it really is a perfect kiss. Her hands travel up my arms and wrap around my neck while mine find their way to her waist. She leans in and deepens the kiss. It is perfect.

The sound of heavy footsteps manages to register in my hazy brain. Zelda hears it, too, and she breaks the kiss because, as she stated a long time ago when a couple was making out in front of Telma's, she hates public displays of affection. The footsteps become louder but neither of us pay much attention. We're looking at each other and grinning like idiots. She's about to say something when her content smile falls and her eyes widen with anxiety as she looks over my shoulder. Following her gaze, I turn around just in time to see the silhouette of a man inches away from me.

I have no time to react before two hands fling forward and grab me by my jacket's collar. My vision swarms as I'm flung to the side and my back is pressed up against the stone of the bridge's railing. He's pushing me over the side so that my head hangs above the black, churning water and so that my spine is arched painfully against the sharp granite. The man shakes me by my collar, rattling my brain against my skull_, _and I have to blink a few times to clear my bleary eyes in order to finally see the face in front of me. Heavy shadows make his eyes look like empty sockets, his chestnut hair sticks up in every direction as if he was just electrocuted, and an array of freckles decorate his round, red nose. Lips pulled into a snarl and cheeks flushed, he shouts in a voice strained with fury,

"Who the hell did you tell!?" He shakes me by the collar again and this time my hat slips off my head, drifting to the river below. "Who _the fuck_ did you _tell_?"

Despite the throbbing in my head from the jarring motions and from being almost upside down, I manage to recognize his enraged face and desperate voice.

Talo.

"Let go of him!" Zelda orders with a strident yell. From the corner of my eyes I see her tugging at his shoulders but he easily shoves her back as if she were nothing more than a fly.

"Who did you tell!" He shouts again. A drop of water splashes onto my cheek and I realize that he's crying. In a quivering, loud voice (because Talo does everything loudly), he cries, "Answer me!"

"He can't answer you when you're holding him like that!" Zelda snaps as she marches back over. "He's mute, remember?"

Talo ignores her voice of reason and shakes me again. My spine stretches to the point of popping as my hands scramble to disentangle his from my coat, but his grip is desperately strong and he lodges his knee into my thigh.

"You told somebody!" he yells, his voice shaking with horror and rage. "People I don't even know seem to know all about me now! Everybody knows, and it's _your_ _fault_!"

He digs his fingers into my neck. It's not enough to do any damage but it's enough to make me choke with the unwelcome pressure and for breathing to become an act of extreme focus.

If only he could let me use my hands! If only I could speak! Then I could tell him I never told anybody! I could tell him how people called me gay when they hated me even though the closest act of homosexuality I did was talking to Fledge. I could tell him how _he _even called me gay. Of course people will call him gay now that he's hated by the school! That's what they call people they don't like, and yet he doesn't understand it. Goddesses, how much doesn't he understand?

"Let go of him!" Zelda shouts again as she yanks at his shoulder. With a furious growl, Talo blindly throws an arm out and manages to slap Zelda across the face. She topples to the ground without making a sound.

A protective fury rushes through me and renewed strength fills my bones. I squirm against him and jab my knee against him, confident that I will get out now. I'm so enraged my blood is boiling with a loathing that gives me strength…and yet no matter what I do I can't escape. While I was recovering he was training everyday for soccer – I grew physically weaker while he grew stronger. Despite all my good intentions and my overwhelming need to defend Zelda, he easily overpowers me, and when his hands circle my throat again they have a much deadlier intent. His thumbs push against my scar, as if he's trying to rip it open, and an aching pain blossoms from that spot. I gasp for air, my nails digging into his hands, but he only pushes harder.

"I-I told you I'd kill you," he stammers, his voice suddenly cracking and hot tears pouring from his dark eyes and onto my chin. "I-I t-told you!"

His bottom lips trembles. His fingers lessen just enough to let me take a deep breath of air, but his body continues to pin me in place. I try knocking his face away, though if my hands go anywhere near his face he tries to bite them. No matter how hard I push against his shoulders he remains unmoved.

"I told you!" he shouts again, choking on his own sob as his grip tightens around my throat. My vision swarms. Tears spring from my eyes. I choke on nothing. His nails dig into my scar and I worry that it might actually tear apart, like the seam of an old, forgotten shirt.

My thoughts slow and my eyes begin to droop. For a second I try to fight it but my head's pounding and my arms grow weak and the world is just so…cold…

Air rushes back into me and my eyes snap open. I find myself slumped against the stone railing without any recollection of how I got there, yet with a lingering, mind boggling panic. Without thinking I gently paw at my already bruising neck, searching for a corroded silver rod that must be lodged inside me. My muscles seize and I gasp for breath as I await for a suffocating, fiery, gory pain to overtake me. I'm waiting for the pain to put me to sleep and for the water to fill my lungs, when a horrified scream straight for a nightmare brings me back to a terrifying reality.

Still slumped against the railing, I look to the side to find Zelda bent over Talo's shaking form. The night hides them in shadows and all I can see are their outlines, which are highlighted by a lone lamp a few yards away. He's kneeling in front of her with his hands clutching his nose, and though I can't see it I know he's crying from the sound of his sobbing. Zelda grabs him by the shoulders and then slams her knee into his face. With a cry, Talo crumples back to the ground and begins to whimper like a sick dog.

"Where is he?" Zelda screams, the shrillness of her voice traveling like daggers in the once gentle atmosphere. Kicking him in the stomach without a single second of hesitation, she shouts, "Where is Ghirahim?"

He chokes on his own sobs, and it's such a pathetic sound that he manages to make me pity him, but I'm too stunned to do anything more. In a strained, trembling voice, he cries, "What the fuck?"

Zelda lifts her hand high, and though the lamp only illuminates it for half a second before she brings it back down to slap him, the crimson blood on her fingers is glaringly obvious against her pale skin.

I'm too horrified to move until the third _smack _cuts through the crisp air. My vision sways as I push myself up, and the sound of Talo's cry of pain urges me forward. I stumble for a few feet before my balance returns and I rush the rest of the way to Zelda.

No…not Zelda. Zelda would never do this.

Just as she's about to slap him again, I grab her by her shoulders and yank her away from her whimpering victim. In a tangle of limbs we fall back onto the stone. She elbows me in the ribs as she rolls off of me. I try to stand up and follow her but she kicks me in the stomach without hesitation. The wind rushes out of me and I instinctively curl in on myself.

"Stay out of my way!" she snarls, but I don't see her. My face is pressed into the damp stones. All I can do as my body recovers is listen to her heavy footsteps and the desperate pleadings of Talo before another painful cry fills the night.

This is not my sweet, compassionate, wise Zelda. This is a monster. This is Sheik.

I manage to stand up just as Sheik grabs a discarded beer bottle from the side of the road. Her gaze fixed on Talo's twitching form, she easily smashes the end of it against the stone. The sound of shattering glass sends shivers down my spine, but she is unperturbed by it. She might even be pleased by the way it makes Talo shudder in fear. With her head held high and her hips swinging with each step, she takes her time walking towards Talo's helpless form. Her satisfaction, however, gives me the time to jump in front of her victim.

She stops and her malicious smirk turns into an irritated scowl. From this angle I can see her face perfectly, and it's a horrifying view. Strands of her golden hair hang across her head and mingle with the blood that's already beginning to dry on her cheek. Her eyes – usually wise and compassionate – are filled with a murderous intent that makes my brain falter with terror.

"Step aside, or I shall kill you, too," she orders, and her voice is so chilling, so detached, so sincere on her threat that my heart feels as though it has turned to ice and my limbs become numb. I'm too horrified to even respond, so when I don't move she takes a threatening step closer and waves her shattered beer bottle in the air, the light of the dull lamp catching it's sharp, deadly edges.

"I'm giving you one more chance," she warns with increasing volume. "Move. Now."

In the distance I see that multiple house lights have turned and two people are standing about half a block from where we are. They look on curiously, and I wonder if they're suspicious of what they see. They start walking down the street. Are they walking towards us? How can I call for help when I'm mute?

Though my body is aching and my brain is fuzzy with shock, I manage to sign with my trembling hands, "_Please…let Zelda out. I need to talk to Zelda."_

"Zelda's not coming back!" She retorts, her voice so loud that more people stop on the road. "She's been in control for too long, and look how little she's done to avenge our mother! Zelda is officially gone. _I _am in control now."

"_But killing Talo is not going to bring you closer to your mother's killer!" _I sign frantically.

"Obviously," she snaps and she almost rolls her eyes. "But this boy is a cancer on the people around him. Look at him! He's curled up on the road crying when all he does is put people down to make himself look better. I'm doing the world a favor. I'm doing him a favor. I'm doing _you _a favor!"

"_Thank you, I guess, but it really is not necessary – "_

"Shut up!" She growls and saunters past me. "I'm done listening to your driveling."

She marches forward, her blood soaked hand tightening on the shattered bottle's neck, and, despite every nerve in my body telling me not to, I step in front of her. Without a second thought she tries to elbow past me but I grab her by the wrists. If I can just get her to look me in the eyes! It worked last time, so if she could just _look _at me…

But it goes terribly wrong. Sheik effortlessly brings her knee up to my gut, and once I'm bent over in pain, she kicks me in the ribs and I collapse to the ground in a groaning heap. She does all this as if it's as easy and mindless as breathing. Brushing the hair out of her face, she marches towards Talo.

In the time it takes me to regain my breath and stand up, Sheik has already turned her victim onto his back and has stepped on his fingers until they're a useless pile of bones. She raises the broken bottle over her head just as I charge forward and knock her to the ground. Thankfully, the bottle flies out of her hand and she lands on her back. She flails desperately against me, her knee hitting me in the chest and her heel digging into my calf, but I manage to pin her legs down with mine and I hold her arms above her head. I had thought this part, once executed, would be easy but my muscles are screaming as she bucks and squirms with the strength of a caged, desperate animal. She hisses and pants, her hair a tangled mess and her eyes beast-like with how dilated her pupils have become. With a ferocious cry, she twists and curls her limbs in nearly every direction, and though I really don't want to hurt her I instinctively press down harder, eliciting a pained moan. Her movements slow with the increasing pressure, and so I dig my nails into her wrists and she whimpers. I don't want to, but I'm so desperate for her to regain control that I dig my knees into her legs until she's screaming with pain.

No matter what I do, however, she still doesn't look at me. Her eyes remain dilated and unfocused, but her breathing is softer and her movements less erratic. I lessen my grip on her wrists, and, to my relief, she doesn't rebel. My thumbs begin to draw circles on her palm as her body stills. She blinks twice and then finally our eyes lock.

I mouth her name once, twice, quickly and slowly. I think of each letter as if I am actually producing the sound, and in my mind my voice is strong and reassuring. Every time I mouth her name, I imagine I get a little bit of my voice back. It is weak and scratchy at first but soon escalates to a deep, resonating sound that soothes her. I had wasted my voice before, but now, even though it's not really there, I am using it to bring a girl down from insanity.

After what feels like a hundred silent _Zelda_'s, her body finally becomes limp and her eyes clear. She inhales as if she has never breathed before. The rage falls from her face and her expression goes from postal to dazed in a matter of seconds. A clarity returns to her gaze. She twists her head around and looks at the scene, her stare hovering over Talo's twitching body only two yards away. The situation hits her. Tears spring from her eyes and horror overcomes her features. Confident Zelda has returned, I release her hands and she immediately brings them to her face to cover her eyes, but when she notices the strange texture of them she studies them more closely.

"No…" she chokes. Gasping, she wiggles away from me and backs up until she leaning against the stone railing.

"Hey!" a distant, gruff voice shouts from the bottom of the bridge. "What's going on here?"

I ignore the approaching police and scoot closer to Zelda. She's rubbing her eyes with her wrists, carefully avoiding using her blood caked hands, and her body is shaking with suppressed sobs. My fingers brush against her arm and she shrinks away from me. I freeze and our eyes lock. Hers are wild and terrified yet screaming with a thousand apologies.

"Who are you?" The police officer yells, his voice getting closer and the sound of footsteps filling the night like a steady drumbeat.

Neither of us respond. I try to reach out again but she curls in on herself.

_No,_ she mouths. Tears rushing down her cheeks, she does it again. There is no sound but I hear it my mind from the way her lips part and join. _No_.

Time seems to slow when the police finally come. I am roughly dragged away from her and a man starts demanding answers out of me, but I can't hear him. All sounds turn into a muddle of deep voices as I stare helplessly at Zelda. My view is obstructed as more police crowd around me. They stand in front of me, shake my by my shoulders, and shout in my face, yet nothing they do makes sense. Zelda quickly parts the crowd, however, and she quickly explains to an officer what happened…or at least I think she does. Perhaps I've gone deaf, or at least partially. Everything sounds as though I am underwater and the sounds are above the surface. I try desperately to get Zelda to look at me, but her eyes seem to go everywhere but mine. When I reach out to touch her a man thrusts my hand away and starts to lead me to a police car. Flashing red and blue lights illuminate the bridge in spazzes. Zelda's bloodstained, ashen face appears in spurts. She's being dragged away as well, but to a separate car. I want to call out to her, to hold her, to do _something,_ but she stares at the ground as she stumbles down the bridge. I don't even get one last look at her before she enters the police car; a team of EMTs rushes to Talo's aid right as she opens the door.

A policeman has to guide my body into the car because I am too stunned to move. Somebody drapes an orange blanket around my shoulders ("for the shock") before the door slams shut and we drive into the dark city streets.

* * *

Author's Note

Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh this time limit makes me so unhappy but it must be done! I am a day late, unfortunately, but I am still confident in my speed! This chapter was roughly put together (as I am sure you can tell) and I only reread it once so there is bound to be a ton of grammatical errors. Please be forgiving! I'm sorry if I disappointed anybody with the poor quality, but I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless. Of course Zelda and Link can't have a good day to themselves! What were you thinking? :p

Some honesty here: my depiction of MPD in this chapter might be flawed. Sheik is Zelda's aggressive personality (most MPD patients have one), but I do not know how…intelligent (is that the word I'm looking for?) they usually are. They might not speak coherently at all. I am not sure buuuuuuuut please forgive me.

I have many reviews I need to respond to still (and I promise you that I will!), but I have read them all and what can I say? You guys are amazing and thank you so much for continuing to read despite the too quick updates. Thank you **The Super Twins, Darkblaze40, WolfRunner326, burning book, ScarlettAlexandra, PotterAllTheWay64, ShadowNinja1011, The Supreme, Linkforever125, SnowyDawn17, Yanner12, KaChan84, R. Recollect, MasterShortPantsx3, TheRoboman, Shadowpelt2, Canada Cowboy, SweetCarnation, Kamil the Awesome, sslamajama97, A Shadow's Lament, VoiceOfTheFell, Illiterate Aghhe, **and **Squeeb100 **for your uplifting and funny reviews! They make me happy!

Special thanks to **Canada Cowboy **as always for helping with the plot. CC was the one who suggested the opening scene!

Speaking of law, I am probably going to post another law explanation on tumblr to explain the punishment and what not (but maybe not till after next chapter cause otherwise spoilers!)

Okay that's it. Thanks!

~~Wave~~


	15. Chapter Fifteen

_You are going to hate me._

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

Updated August 16th, 2013

* * *

The days following Zelda and I's catastrophic date are terribly, agonizingly long. And they are quiet. So very quiet. People move in whispers and talk on tiptoes. Even nature is quiet with its constant cloud filled sky that doesn't release rain or sun. There's only grayness. A somber, dull, silent gray that swallows everything around and inside me.

I have no trouble with the police, thank goddesses, but I was told that Talo is going to be recovering from more than just broken bones and cuts. Zelda however….I don't know about her. No matter how many times I text her cell or call her house I never get an answer. I've rung her doorbell twice in the past four days, and even though I can hear people moving inside nobody opens the door.

That's the worst part: Zelda's silence. How can I know if I've done something wrong or if she's in some kind of trouble? How can I tell her that I'm sorry when she won't speak to me? Her silence leaves me feeling confused and empty, and suddenly all food tastes like nothing and all music is just noise. She's not around yet all I can think about is her. After four days of this misery I decide that love is a horrible, annoying, exhausting emotion and we'd all be better off without it.

The day I finally see Zelda is six days after the incident and four days before I have my meeting with the prosecutor. I ring her doorbell, expecting another rejection, when Impa opens the door. She's dressed in all black, as usual, and her face is a carefully composed mask of neutral, but there's something in her eyes that proves this last week has been tiring for her.

"Follow me," she orders in a clipped tone, abandoning typical greetings as usual. Without even checking to see that I will, she starts marching up the carpeted stairs. I quickly catch up. The house is so silent that our footsteps echo in the vast, lifeless halls. As we approach Zelda's room I expect to hear the familiar hum of her music blasting through her door, but there is no sound.

Impa knocks twice. No response. She gently pushes the door open and moves aside, gesturing for me to go in. I take a deep breath, and push the door open.

Her room is not how it should be. For one thing, the white carpet is actually visible (I never even knew she had a carpeted room) and everything is so tidy, so clean, so _not Zelda._ There are no clothes flung over her desk chair, no expensive iPod speakers on the floor, and no scribbled-in textbooks on the perfectly made bed. What's worse is that the pale pink walls are _bare_. All her photographs have been taken down and organized into albums that are neatly stacked on her desk, leaving only traces of sticky tack and stains that she had once covered up with carefully placed pictures. The gray light from outside illuminates the room in a dusky, depressing hue.

And then I notice the luggage. A spacey black suitcase lies on the floor and is filled to the brim with carefully folded shirts and pants. Cardboard boxes sit against the wall with words such as _Misc. _and _Hats, Gloves, Etc. _and _Books_ scribbled across their sides.

Finally, even as my brain is still reeling with the change, I see Zelda. She's standing beside her dresser, folding another shirt, and I can't help but feel sorry for her. Violet bags decorate the space under her exhausted cobalt eyes and her fading red shirt and gray sweatpants hang off her thin frame. When she sees me she flinches. _ Flinches._

"W-who let you in?" she demands.

I feel as though I've been punched in the stomach. Why is she so scared of me? What did I do to make her act like this?

Ignoring her question, I sign with gentle movements, "_What is wrong?_"

"You should leave," she orders, yet she won't look me in the eye. I take a step forward. She steps back.

"_I am sorry," _I sign. "_Whatever I did…I am so sorry. Please, tell me what is wrong."_

She shakes her head and closes her eyes. "How could you think you've done something wrong? You're not the one who nearly killed two people."

Her hands return to folding her clothes, and she stares at them with such focus it's as if her life depends on it. She sniffles and blinks twice. I walk towards her again and, thankfully, she doesn't move. Once in her eyesight, I sign,

"_You know that was not your fault._"

"And yet I stood in the shower for two hours to get the blood off and I'm still not clean," she replies bitterly. I look at her hands and find them to be as white and smooth as alabaster, yet even now her thumb rubs across her knuckles as if brushing away some invisible stain.

"_Is there anything I can do to help?_" I ask hesitantly, because I really have no idea how to deal with this situation, but, goddesses, I want to know _so bad_. Never in my life have I wanted anything more than the ability to make Zelda happy.

She laughs a cold, angry laugh. Brushing a strand of wavy yellow hair out of her face, she says in such a quiet voice that she must be talking to herself, "How could you still want anything to do with me?"

"_Because I care about you_," I respond instantly. "_A lot_."

"But _why_?" She hisses and she finally turns her eyes on me. They are clouded with unshed tears but the pain, shame, and desperation are all clear. "How could you care about a monster? How can I let you?"

Her voice quivers and she digs the heels of her hands into her eyes. My arms encircle her frail form. She leans into me without any protest as I gingerly stroke her head and imagine her fuse box underneath. I place a gentle kiss on her temple where two wires don't match up quite right. _Not a monster_. Another kiss lands on her forehead where a slight gas fire has broken out. _Not a monster_. My lips move on their own placing sweet, reassuring kisses on rusty cogs, short-circuited control chips, frayed wires, and overheated batteries. Her brain is deadly yet my mouth has no problem kissing it. _Clearly not a monster_.

"You're making this very difficult, Link," she sighs as she snuggles into me.

I'm not really sure what that's supposed to mean so I just keep encircling her head with kisses. She doesn't speak for at least another full minute, and when she does her voice is quiet and nervous as if she's confessing to a crime.

"I'm leaving…in three days."

I freeze, and then step back. Her hands remain on my arms but she's staring at the floor as tears trickle from her eyes. Tilting her chin up, I look at her with a blatant confusion, begging for more information.

"I'm going to a psychiatric hospital in Great Bay…" she mumbles. "It's the best hospital in all of Hyrule and they have a program designed for women with personality disorders, but…"

She doesn't need to say anymore. I know what this means. Great Bay is a beautiful city located on the tropical shores of Hyrule. It's a five hour flight from here with plane tickets that cost more than I will ever hope to earn, or a week drive with a car I don't have. It's far. Much too far.

"_How long will you be gone?_" I sign, immediately returning my hands to her hips once I'm done.

She pauses for too long.

"I don't know. I'll be there as long as it takes to cure me. I could be there for or year, a decade, or maybe the rest of my life."

My heart turns to a heavy, numb piece of ice, and the blood that travels through it freezes. Her face sags with sorrow. I place my hands on her cheeks and skim my fingers across her skin, collecting her tears and trying to bring joy back to her face, but every cell in her body is depressed and I have no joy to give. My thumb brushes past her lips and she speaks again with a shudder.

"I should've gone much earlier in the year," she confesses as her hands tighten on my arms. "There was a day back in September when my mind had finally come to terms with the move and I decided that I would tell my dad I wanted to go, but then I met you and…I don't know. I kept putting it off for hours then days then weeks and then…then I just forgot. But after the other night…"

She steps back. Our hands slide away from each other until the only point of contact between us is our fingertips.

"I'm sick, Link," her voice cracks. I try to bring her back to me by tugging at her wrists but she yanks her hands away and covers her face. "I'm really, _really_ sick, and so I have to do this. I have to go."

She runs her hands through her hair, revealing a tearstained face with pink, puffy eyes. I place a foot forward but I don't move.

"Don't," she begins shakily, and then hesitates to swallow the lump in her throat and take a deep breath. "Don't worry about me. Don't wait for me. I want you to go date other girls and make other crazy friends and keep rebuilding your life like your doing. I'll send you letters, but I don't get any electronics where I'm going. If you stop replying then I'll stop writing, and that's fine. Don't feel obligated to keep in touch if you don't want to, and, Link, I…. You're making this very hard for me…"

She's crying now and my hands have returned to caressing her face. She tries to speak but nothing comes out. Done with words, I duck my head down and press my lips against hers. Her mouth is wet and slightly salty from all the tears. My lips tremble from all the melancholy and the cruel reality and the longing I am already feeling. In the short (or long, I am not sure) span of time our mouths fumble together I imagine what life would've been like if her mother was never killed and if I had never joined the soccer team. Would our paths have crossed? Would she have gone to my school? Would we understand each other so well that just a look from her or a touch of my hand could exchange so many messages? Despite how much I want the answer to be a yes, I am sure it's a no.

I deepen the kiss with a desperation I have only felt when I tried to push Sheik away to bring Zelda back, or when I swam towards Colin's lifeless, floating body. Our bodies curl around each other perfectly and our lips mesh together. I can't say _I love you_ but I hope she gets the message from every brush of fingers, every parting of lips, and every shallow breath. _I love you_.

And she'll keep getting that message, because I will wait. She'll get it with every letter I send and every care package she receives and every visit I make. She'll get it when she finally walks out of that hospital with a cured brain and a new life waiting for her. She'll get it so much that she'll tell me she's sick of it, but I'll never believe her.

Her lips respond eagerly to mine. One of her hands pulls my head down while the other rests on my neck. She breathes in. Message received.

_I love you, too_.

* * *

I visit Colin the following day. I know I should be more nervous about what he thinks of me and if he'll sue me and what not, but after Zelda's news nothing else really seems to scare me anymore. However, all my apathy dissolves the moment I walk into his hospital room and see him actually looking alive. Warm sunlight seeps through the blinds and makes the edges of his long flaxen hair glow like a halo. His skin, which I had thought of as ashen and bloody for far too much, is smooth and pink. He's watching _Myth Busters_ with an excessive amount of interest, but the fact that his mind is able to follow the show's science is a relief in itself. His keen, awake blue eyes look at me and his mouth turns up in a small, hesitant smile. A smile. Not a frown.

I grin with relief.

"Hey," he greets in a gentle voice as I take a seat in the chair beside him. Clicking the T.V. off, we look at each other curiously. The fact that he's blinking and swallowing and tilting his head to the side and entangling his fingers in a nervous habit and breathing and licking his lips…the fact that he is so alive enchants me. Likewise, he is fascinated by my scar, and for a few seconds we're fine just studying each other, but it quickly becomes awkward. He nervously looks at his hands and bites his lip.

"So…" he drawls, picking at his fingernails. "What's new?"

Despite the sorrow I've felt for the past week, seeing Colin act so…_Colin_ nearly makes up for all of it. Some part of him is always moving – right now it's his fingers – and he looks around the room with wide, curious blue eyes. Just seeing him active and talking makes me so relieved that he could punch me in the face right now and I'd be perfectly fine with it.

Shrugging, I write on my portable whiteboard, _Nothing much, you?_

He doesn't go along with my antics, though, and he frowns.

"So it's true," he gravely whispers. "You really are mute."

I don't know how to respond to that. My muteness is such old news that I had forgotten it would be a new development for him. Well, I guess everything is a new development.

"Did…" he mumbles uncertainly, his eyes flicking to my throat. "Did it hurt?"

But I don't want to focus on me. What does it matter if it hurt? I'm healed now. Ignoring his question, I write, _How are you?_

His face suddenly becomes guarded. He's silent for a bit and he's thinking so hard that I can practically see the uncertain, wild thoughts forming together, but then he releases a heavy breath and the tension is gone.

"It's really weird," he confesses as he stares at his hands again. "I'm having a hard time getting over the fact that I've been asleep for months, especially when so much happened while I was out. I've been getting a lot of updates from different people, but you seem to come up a lot no matter who's speaking. I get most of my news from Aryll, and, of course, your letter."

I follow his gaze to a folded piece of paper sitting on his bedside table. Oh right. That thing. How did I forget about that thing?

_I meant everything I wrote, _I write after too long a silence has passed, and the nervousness I had avoided for so long returns at full force. I had forgotten how raw that letter was, and now I wish I had at least gone back to check for grammatical errors.

He smiles again. "I can tell," he replies with a knowing lilt to his voice. "You tried to save me and got mute in the process, you sold everything you own to help pay off my medical bills, and then you turned yourself in to the police. You, my friend, have been quite busy without me."

My heart flutters at his words. _Are we friends_? I ask hopefully.

He shifts around in his bed and bites his lip.

"I was angry at first, I'll give you that," he admits with a nonchalance that only Colin can pull off in tense situations. It almost makes me smile. "Furious even, but after hearing about all that you did and reading your letter and all that you _went through_…. And the weirdest part is that everybody wants me to hate you. My mom keeps insisting that I do something against you, and whenever I ask about you people have this strange look that I can't quite describe, but it's the kind of look people get when they know that you hate someone, except I don't hate you…I think. I'm pretty sure, at least, so…. Anyway, we might not be friends right now, but I'm hoping that we can be in the future once all this nightmare is over. Do you want to?"

Goddesses, how I've missed his incoherent, confused, ramblings.

_I do_, I write. _And I am sorry, Colin. I am truly, really, incredibly sorry. No matter how many times I __say__ write it it won't be enough._

"Oh, don't worry about that," He chuckles softly. "You already wrote an entire page apologizing for all the wrongs you have done against me. Hm, how did you word it in your letter?" He reaches across the desk and picks it up. Flipping to the second page, he reads, "'I find this apology to be more frustrating than any calculus test or thoughtless horror movie, because no matter what metaphors I use or what actions I take I feel you will never understand what it's like to regret something so much that you spend entire nights staring at the ceiling and replaying every mistake in your mind. But it's more than regret or guilt, because those both sound so selfish to me. It's a self loathing for being such an awful human being that the awfulness couldn't be held within one body, and so it bled onto another person who was too nice to stop it. I'm sorry I was that much of an asshole. And I'm sorry you are so nice.' Quite poetic of you, don't you think?"

I am unable to hold eye contact and have to look away. It's all true, of course, but hearing the words aloud makes me embarrassed for some reason. And then I realize that I am one lucky asshole, because only Colin could be in a coma for five months and be so forgiving. I actually want him to hate me. He should want to murder me and I deserve to be murdered by him, and so the fact that he's all warm smiles and relaxed words makes me guiltier than before.

_I'm sorry_, I write, positioning the board so he can't read it till I'm done. _I'm sorry that I betrayed your trust and took advantage of your kindness. I'm sorry you got stuck with an awful friend like me. I'm sorry I couldn't save you in time. I'm sorry that I helped you join the soccer team in the first place. I'm sorry for eating your bowl of ice cream that one time we were at your house for a scary movie night. I'm sorry I suck. I'm sorry you're such a good person. I'm sorry I started a rumor once in middle school that you liked the gross, old history teacher. I'm sorry _

I have to stop there because I've run out of room. Without looking him in the eye, I show him my message and he reads it slowly. He doesn't say anything. Seriousness returns to his features, making him look three years older. When he speaks again it's with a grave wisdom that I have only heard from one other person.

"Thank you."

It's not a _oh, don't worry about it _or a _you should be_, but a genuine _thank you_. He might be too nice for his own good, but he knows that I messed up and he recognizes that I'm trying to fix it. I'm not forgiven, yet the weight of guilt and sorrow finally feels like it's draining out of me.

A brief stillness passes. He yawns.

"I'm sorry about Zelda," he says sympathetically. "Aryll told me all about you two, and about what happened the other night. I'm sorry she had to go. She sounds amazing. I wish I could've met her, but maybe some day I will."

He smiles slightly. It takes me a few seconds to understand what he's implying, but once I do I return his smile. He yawns again and rubs his tired eyes.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "I'm always sleepy these days…"

_Don't worry about it. I'll get out of your hair_.

Just as I'm standing up to leave, one more important topic pops into my head.

_Talo's gay_, I write, no longer worried about his threat to kill me or his right to privacy (because after what he did I really don't care what happens to him). _And I think he loves you._

Much to my surprise, Colin takes the news with a slight nod and a sad smile.

_You knew? _I write, my mouth falling open.

"My dad told me that he visited frequently, and then Aryll told me you had asked her if I was gay, so….yeah."

He looks to the side and I scuffle my feet against the ground as a familiar awkwardness returns to our conversations. I had forgotten about his other ability: making anything and everything awkward.

_So… _I write, my letters looping together in a sloppy fashion. _Are you gay?_

"No," he replies. "And if I was, there is no way I would ever, ever, be attracted to Talo."

An awkward silence follows, but this one is quickly cut off by our smiles and laughter. I laugh with relief because for months I could only think of Colin as a bloody corpse, but now he's alive with all his Coliness that I can't help but silently chuckle at the good fortune. I'm not sure why he laughs. Maybe he's just happy to be alive.

We depart with semi-awkward goodbyes and with promises to see each other soon, and, though I will never be able to say sorry enough, the guilt that has plagued me for half a year finally lifts. I'm free.

* * *

Kafei, Anju, Midna, Navi, Makar, Mill, and I all see Zelda off a few days later. Despite all the hugs and smiles and promises to write letters, it's a depressing affair. Zelda spends most of the twenty minutes she has free with them, but that's fine with me. We've already done our goodbyes. Still, it's rather anticlimactic when I watch her drive away. My entire body feels empty. She hasn't even turned the corner and I'm already pinning for her.

As soon as I leave her house I realize something important: Zelda fills my world with color. She's a swarm of gentle greens and wise blues and bold reds mixed with the serenity of orange sunsets and the mystery of purple twilights. Her hair is a variation of liquid gold and sun kissed wheat, and her eyes are twinkling sapphires that are brilliantly bright against her soft, peach skin. Pale pink lips, violet shadows beneath her nose and above her black eyelashes, baby blue fingernails, yellow, delicate hair along her arms, chestnut brown freckles on her shoulders…the most gorgeous, vivid painting in the world.

And without her my world becomes grey. It's not the kind of storm cloud, stony grey that hardens my heart or puts me in a consuming depression. It's a grey of faded, forgotten suits and the grey of the sky in between twilight and night. It's a grey of little feeling other than longing and a constant ache in my chest. It's the grey of missing Zelda.

The day after she leaves is the day I have the meeting with the prosecutor. To my surprise (and everybody else's) the whole soccer team is here (except for Talo). None of us make any conversation as we sit in the too small waiting area, but they are clearly nervous. My greyness, however, keeps any fear at bay, which is probably the only benefit of it.

The meeting takes forever. Well, four hours, but in a room filled with people I hate and talking about what might change my life forever time cannot go fast enough. My suffering is worth it, however, when the lawyer announces our punishment. Most of us, including myself and Mikau, have to give a public apology to Colin and anybody else who was a victim of our hazing, pay a fee, and complete fifty community service hours. Where will we be doing our community service? Why, no other than the place where all this trouble started: the lake deep in the forest where the abandoned, haunted watch tower is crumbling away in. Our job, once the ice thaws, is to clean it up.

The lawyer seems rather pleased with the punishment, and I wonder if anybody else gets his reasoning behind it. They are all too relieved to do much other thinking though.

Ralph, Grog, and Mido have twenty extra hours and a larger fine because they were much less cooperative with the investigation. Though I'm not certain, Talo is likely doomed for jail after what he did to me, whereas Zelda is in no trouble.

Most importantly, however, this means no jail time for me.

No. Jail.

My world might be grey, but even I can't hide a smile at the good news. When I walk in the door Grandma and Aryll are perched on the couch, anxiously awaiting the news. They can tell the verdict by my grin and Grandma bursts into tears of relief. Aryll releases a deep breath that I think she's been holding since August.

"Finally," Grandma exclaims as if she's been waiting for this her entire life. "Finally we can put this mess behind us."

I nod vigorously. She crashes into me with a tight hug, holding it for only a second before springing back with a wild look to her old face.

"Eat! We should eat in celebration!" she cries eagerly as she begins shuffling to the kitchen. She continues to speak until her voice becomes a distant hum from the other room. "I'll make your favorites for lunch. I'll make everybody's favorites for the rest of the week! You'll grow tired of it, but it sure beats prison food, because you won't be going to prison…"

Her voice fades just as Aryll gives me an even tighter hug.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again," she orders, but it lacks any hostility.

"_I promise_," I sign. "_And I am sorry for all the trouble I caused, and for not listening to you_."

"I think I can find a way to forgive you," she replies with a mischievous smirk and I know trouble is coming. "For a fee…. Do my chores for a week?"

I roll my eyes, grateful for her playful manner rather than a melancholy one. "_I just got out of jail time. Nothing you say is threatening."_

"Fine, fine," she relents with a wave of her hand. "But you'll be eating those words soon. Just you wait. Now come on, let's help Grandma with lunch. Farore knows that if we don't watch her she'll make enough food to last a month."

I nod in agreement and go to follow her, but just as I'm about to step through the door I hang back and pull out my phone. Zelda won't be able to use any electronics where she's going, though there's a chance she might not be in the hospital yet. I send her a text even though she likely won't see it for years.

**I'm not going to prison.**

I stuff my phone back into my pocket even though all I want to do is sit on the couch and wait for a response that I know will never come. Pushing away the hope stirring in my chest, I march into the kitchen and help Aryll control Grandma's raging cooking.

Five minutes later, I get a response.

**You've fixed the fuse box.**

* * *

Author's Note

Okay, this time this chapter was really poorly written, and I am very sorry about that. Though I don't have time this week, I'll try to find some time to fix it up in a month or so. And there's one more chapter left, but it's going to be a short little epilogue WHICH I HAVE TO WRITE IN ONE DAY. Tomorrow is my last day. Holy shit.

Yeah, I'm behind schedule, but you can't blame me for wanting to spend my last week at home with friends and family rather than writing this story. I just wish I had more time, but if I don't finish it tomorrow then it'll never get done (and that's not a hyperbole, that's serious).

I haven't responded to many of the reviews last chapter, but I've read them all! I promise I will respond, so please don't stop reviewing just because I'm running behind. Thank you **VoiceOfTheFell, Illiterate Aghhe, Squeeb100, PotterAllTheWay64, burning book, ScarlettAlexandra, The Supreme, MasterShortPantsx3, SnowyDawn17, The Super Twins, jogman74, Squeeb100, Darkblaze40, CanadaCowboy, A Shadow's Lament, R. Recollect, Generala, Yanner12, Shadowpelt2, KaChan84, sslamajama97, Ordinary Citizen, Kamil the Awesome, **and** Waffleface **for continuing to review despite the rocket speed I'm going at here! Please be forgiving in your reviews cause I only reread this once, but I still really like them (I'm needy like that). Thank you!

And, as always, special thanks to **Canada Cowboy **for all the help! Really guys, he helped so much with this. Not only was the sentencing his idea, but also having Link regret joining the soccer team and not having a cliche romance between Talo (the jock) and Colin (the nice kid), though that was never going to happen anyway but at least we were on the same page ahaha. If you are skeptical of the sentencing for Link then go check out the tumblr page cause I'll post an explanation for it there soon. But Link ain't going to jail. Woooooot!

Thank you so much for reading!

~~Wave~~


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Updated August 17th, 2013

* * *

.:.:: Two Years Later ::.:.

* * *

When I think of mental institutions I think of concrete blocks with high iron fences and gray, dreary hallways. Great Bay's Clearwater Psychiatric Hospital, however, is the complete opposite of that. The ivory building is of a modern design with circular shapes and roofed bridges that connect the four sections together. Enormous windows line the top floors to give a perfect view of sailboats and yachts cruising in the deep blue ocean under a dazzling sun. Manicured emerald fields and perfectly trimmed hedges surround the establishment like a grassy moat. The sky is a warm baby blue and the air is clean. In all of Zelda's letters she never gave enough credit to the beauty of the place. She constantly wrote about her view of the water, but never about the exotic birds that fly past me as I walk to the front door, or about the elegant, marble water fountain in the lobby. Though I've missed her dearly for the past two years, at least she hasn't been suffering from food poisoning or dreary surroundings.

I check in at the front desk with a polite woman who happens to know sign language, making my long day of traveling that much better. She has me wait for a minute or two, and then a man in a casual dark brown suit strolls in from one of the many sunlit hallways and walks right up to me.

"You must be Link," he greets with a friendly smile. His eyes are dark and intelligent and his black hair is neatly trimmed closed to his scalp. "I'm C.C., one of Zelda's doctors. She has told me so much about you, and I know she'll be happy to see you today."

We waste no time (which I like) and immediately begin walking down a sleek, hallway with windows so clear I wonder if they're even there. The bright sunlight reflects off C.C.'s glasses and he walks with long, purposeful strides. The gardens are spread out before us like a painting, but he gets to see this exquisite site everyday, so he continues to talk as if it's not even there.

"Zelda has been doing very well these past two years, and I think you'll notice the improvement," he explains with slight hand movements and perfectly articulated words. "It has been two weeks since her last switch, and three months since Sheik has appeared.

"Unfortunately, I won't be able to give you two complete privacy since it is the hospital's policy that a doctor always be present with a patient when he or she is outside of their room, but I'll be out of earshot. If you need anything just come get me, but I am confident Zelda will be fine."

I nod as we walk farther and farther into the building, turning so many corners that I have no chance of ever finding my way back without help. We eventually reach the end of a particularly wide hallway where two, wall-sized glass doors lead out to a round courtyard. CC unlocks the door and slides it open. With a smile, he gestures for me to go and I eagerly do so. I walk through the animal shaped hedges, palm trees, and tropical flowers as my heart beats wildly in my chest and the August sun heats my skin. A bird chirps from above. I move past a lumpy, rose covered bush and then –

Zelda.

She's sitting on a stone bench in the shade of a golden rain tree, its yellow flowers swaying in the breeze, as she reads through a thick book. Her simple white dress makes her smooth, healthy skin glow, and her shiny blonde hair falls gracefully around her shoulders. I'm so mesmerized that I can't move. She crosses her tanned legs. She blinks. She turns the page. She blinks again. She glances up. She goes back to reading. She looks up again. Her eyes widen. She grins.

"Link?" she calls out with a mix of confusion and restrained hope. Discarding her book, she stands up and takes a curious step forward, a smile slowly breaking out across her face.

The sound of her voice saying my name sends a surge of energy through my body, and without thinking about it I rush forward and hug her. She returns it with an equal amount of desperate, overjoyed force and the way she giggles when I twirl us around is better than any song. I had worried that after our time apart things would be awkward, but I already know it's not. Though we haven't even exchanged words we are the same as we ever were, except much healthier.

"What are you doing here?" she asks cheerfully, stepping back to look at me.

"_To see you of course," _I sign and she laughs with pure delight.

"You came all the way to Great Bay to see me?" she clarifies, grinning madly.

"_Yes,_" I respond. "_And to move in to my dorm, but I could not go to college without seeing you first._"

Her mouth falls open.

"Wait, you didn't tell me you were going to school here," she says slowly, and though she tries to act serious her mouth is turning back up into a smile like it's stuck there. "Which one are you going to?"

_"GBU. It is only a twenty minute bus ride away, and so I will visit you every day I can."_

She laughs again and then throws her arms around me. I hold her tightly, breathing in her warm scent and running my hands through her soft hair. The last time I saw her she was crying and unstable, but now her eyes are clear and she's in control.

Although I hate letting her go, I pull back in order to sign. With quick, excited movements, I ask, "_So how are you doing?_"

"Much better," she replies with a beaming smile. "The doctors are really amazing here. C.C., the one you met, is so dedicated to his job that I think he's keener on curing me than I am at times. I feel much, much better…though I did miss you."

"_I missed you, too_," I sign as she steps closer to me.

"But enough about me, what about you? Sounds like you've been keeping some important information out of your letters, Link. First you surprise me with a visit, and now you're going to school here? What else is there?"

"_You really want to know?" _I tease, and she playfully rolls my eyes at my cheeky grin.

"Yes I really want to know," she replies as she sits back down on the bench.

Plopping down beside her, I begin to fill her in on what she's been missing for the past two years. I mention Grandma's shenanigans, Aryll's first year of college at Castletown U., and my ever-exciting job as a landscape architect. The conversation quickly turns to what happened right after she left, however, and I start with the sentencing.

I explain to her how we had to hold an assembly in front of the entire school and then read our apologies aloud (someone read for me, of course), which was rather awkward since most of the school still hated us, but it was necessary for us to do. I mention that we all got our diplomas, except for Talo who is still in jail, and then I begin describing the community service. At the time cleaning the lake wasn't such a big deal because my body was so sore and wet from having to lug pieces of shriveled, algae-covered wood out of the water that I couldn't do much thinking. Everybody else felt the same way and, thankfully, nobody talked for the whole week we were there. We worked in absolute silence and listened to the crunching of wood and the splash of water as if nature was telling a story. It wasn't until the tower had been cleared away by some tree-removing crew and the wood and litter was all picked up did I feel any sense of significant change. The noon-high sun reflected off the placid surface that was so clear it created a mirror image of the tall stalks of grass. A soft breeze sent a tiny wave across the water. The leaves rustled. Sore and hungry, we left the site of so much trouble with relief of knowing we'd never have to go back there again and that nobody else would be permanently scarred from the lake's horrors.

I go on to explain that I rarely ever see the rest of the team anymore, and when I do it's just by chance. I deleted all of them from my phone contacts and unfriended them on Facebook, except for Colin, of course. She smiles at that because she knows how we've been doing from my letters. As months passed Colin and I have only become better friends and him and Aryll have never been happier. He's about to go into his second year at Ordon College, which is just a half hour drive from Kakariko.

And speaking of Colin, I inform her of the final verdict of his family's lawsuit against the school. Though Colin didn't prosecute any members of the soccer team, he did decide to sue the school for not preventing hazing when they knew it was happening. They won and got some serious amount of money for it. Enough to make all those medical bills look like petty fines.

By the time I am finished explaining everything the sun is about ready to set and my window to move in to my dorm has grown shorter and shorter.

"You'll be leaving now, then?" she asks, and the disappointment in her voice makes me seriously consider ditching college, but then I regain some logic and force myself to nod.

"_Yes, but I will be back tomorrow. And the next day, and the next day, and the next day, and the next – _"

"Okay, okay," she cuts me off with an amused smile. "If you keep that up they'll probably admit you to the hospital."

"_That would not be so bad, would it?" _I sign as we stand up and begin to slowly walk back to the entrance.

"It is very beautiful here," she agrees. "Though the mental illness and what not kind of detracts from the overall experience."

I nod and then step in front of her. She stops and cocks an eyebrow at my smug expression.

"_I have one more surprise," _I sign.

Pursuing her lips in thought, she guesses, "Puppy?"

"_No_."

"Um…cake?"

"_No_."

"A hug?"

"_No_."

"Am I even close?"

"_No_."

"Okay, what is it then?"

I can't help but grin because this really is a surprise, and I just know she'll be stunned. I swallow, wet my lips, contract my throat muscles, breathe in deeply, push my tongue against my bottom row of teeth, open my mouth, and say in a hoarse, quiet voice,

"Zelda."

Her mouth falls open and her eyes widen like an owl's. She's the picture of complete and utter shock with her body completely rigid and her face so still she might be stuck like that.

"Did you just…" she gasps, unable to form the rest of the words.

"Yep," I say in a gravely whisper, and I can't fight my grin any longer. "Six months ago my muscles finally healed enough for me to start voice therapy. The doctors say I'm very lucky that everything lined up correctly again, and though I can't speak much right now, I'm getting better."

Even now as I speak my throat feels raw, like I drank sand, but I fight through it to produce sound. It's a weak, rough sound, but a sound nevertheless. A sound that makes Zelda sway with shock and then smile with joy. It's a sound of redemption and recovery.

It's the sound of hope.

* * *

_Author's Note_

THE END.

Wow I wrote this chapter literally in an hour and so it's very sloppy but sweet and short and to the point. Despite how rushed these last few chapters have been you guys continue to support and encourage me and I can't tell you how much I needed that to keep me chugging at this rocket pace. I'm going to respond to all of your reviews, I promise, it just might be a few days or so because I have to respond to the reviews from the last two chapters as well. Thank you everybody who has read/reviewed/favorited/alerted this story. I never expected it to become so popular and I am amazed at all your love and the review/visitor count for this story. I'm not good with numbers, but that's cool.

And now some acknowledgements. Of course I have to give a huge thanks to **Canada Cowboy**, for this story would be much different without his help. He did a lot of work for this story even when I didn't ask for it – he even reread the entire story once (I rarely reread my stories after I post them because I am never pleased with my own work). He was so important that I even did a cameo for him (the doctor, C.C. – sorry it wasn't a bigger role), and I have never ever done a cameo before because I usually don't like them, but I made the exception. So really, huge thanks for **Canada Cowboy**!

And a big old thanks to all those who reviewed last chapter! Thank you **NefasSegador, R. Recollect, richardbg2, Squeeb100, SnowyDawn17, melvintheminion, Canada Cowboy, PotterAllTheWay64, radishesandspectraspects, The Supreme, Angelic Paradox91, sslamajama97, Kamil the Awesome, jogman74, ScarlettAlexandra, Oblivion Star Seeker, MasterShortPantsx3, Yanner12, Waffleface, Darkblaze40, FwooshEye, david Davidson, WolfRunner326, Generala, KaChan84, **and **ShadowNinja1011! **I am leaving for college tomorrow so my responses will be delayed, but don't let that stop you from dropping a review! You know how much I love feedback :)

For additionally information, go check out the tumblr page. I will be posting my pages from my journal now that the story is over so you can see how much planning and editing went into this. Feel free to ask questions too! Just go t : / wavewood. tumblr. Com (delete spaces)

Thanks so much again guys. Really. I loved writing this more than you enjoyed reading it.

Wow it's going to be so weird changing this from in-progress to complete ahahaha

Goodnight!

~~Wave~~


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